When In Rome
by Determamfidd
Summary: Three months after the events of 'Talking In Her Sleep', Hiccup and Astrid have settled into their married life. Until a Viking convocation tears Hiccup away, and sends them all on a frantic chase around the known world...
1. Chapter 1

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Dislcaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

So, here it is, the promised sequel! And yeah, we dive straight into the sexytiems in Part 1. Rating for this and for violence in later chapters.

I hope you all enjoy it, and don't forget to review!

* * *

**When In Rome**

* * *

"Da-ad!"

Hiccup shifted the weight from his prosthetic leg as Stoick heaped another sack into his arms.

"No buts, Hiccup, you're coming with us, and that's final."

"This has got to be a joke, or the Gods really do hate me. Dad, I just got married! Can't I just be 'just got married' a bit longer, instead of being dragged over to Phlock?"

"This is part of the duties of the Chief, Hiccup," Stoick said sternly. "You've got to learn this stuff. An' the wedding was three months ago, you must be used to it by now."

"Used to…? Dad, it's _Astrid_ we're talking about here. You know, the crazy dangerous unpredictable blonde girl, the one upstairs?" Hiccup thumped his armful of sacks onto Toothless' back. The Night Fury sniffed at them curiously, and whined irritably at his friend.

"The one you've known your whole life, you mean?" Stoick said, a touch of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't living with her then, was I?" Hiccup lifted his arms up resignedly for the next bundle.

Stoick thumped a sack of heavy embroidered pennants into his arms, and then stood down from the ladder, taking off his helmet and wiping at his brow. "Get that beast to take those down to the ship, will you? An' Hiccup, I had to do this too, an' I liked it no better than you do. But this is an important meeting – all the Chiefs from all the surrounding islands are goin' to be there, and you need," he prodded his son in his still-skinny chest, "to represent the dragons of Berk. After all, that's what the convocation's about, eh?"

"Why can't you do it?" sulked Hiccup. "You're Chief, not me."

"They're really goin' to believe that _I_ made peace with the dragons? An' here I thought you were a clever lad." Stoick re-donned his helmet, took Hiccup's shoulders and forcibly span him around. The heavy bundle of pennants almost slipped out of his arms.

"Dad, I'll have spent more of this year _away_ than at _home_!" Hiccup moaned, putting down the cumbersome bundle on Toothless' already-laden back and beginning to tie them down.

"I know, and I'm sorry, son, but it's your own fault for makin' friends with this blasted lizard," Stoick nudged Toothless' side, and the dragon snorted contemptuously.

"Okay, for my sake, can everyone at least pretend to get along? Too much to ask?" Hiccup said sardonically, looking between them. Stoick looked a little abashed, but cleared his throat to cover it.

"You're going to Phlock, Hiccup, and there's an end to it," he said gruffly.

"Fantastic," Hiccup sighed, tightening the ropes around Toothless' belly.

"No one said you were going alone, son," Stoick added in a gentler tone. Hiccup's head jerked up, and he stared at his father.

"Who's coming?"

* * *

"You're going _where_?"

Hiccup winced. "Apparently this is non-negotiable, and I have to be there to represent the dragon-rider contingent and this is _so_ not my idea, and it would be really great if you didn't kill me or maim me in any way."

Astrid put her hands on her hips and glared. Her glare was very, very good. "Hiccup. I waited six months for you while you were in Brass Monkey. Then I put up with a month of bickering, dithering and duels-to-the-death. Then we got married, and I thought; great, finally, a chance to calm down - and now you tell me you're going away _again_?"

"You are not being very reassuring regarding the whole horrible death or bloody maiming possibilities," he said nervously, and she ran her hands over her headcloth roughly.

"_Arrgh_! Hiccup, for Odin's sake, can't you just stay put? Tell your dad you're not going?"

"Tried," he said miserably, and sat down on the fur-covered bench that sat in a cosy corner of their loft room. "It was a no. Underlined. Twice."

Astrid's face softened as she took in his miserable expression. She sat beside him and took his hand, her fingers slipping between his. "So, how long is it supposed to be before you come home?" she asked in a gentler tone. "It better not be six months," she added sharply.

He shrugged one shoulder. "Phlock's two weeks away by sea. I don't know how long this Chief-convocation is supposed to last, maybe a couple of days, maybe a month. All I know is, every time I've been sent away to teach the other villages about the dragons, nothing gets done until after the welcoming feast. Totally useless before then because everyone gets so drunk they can't see. Apparently this is what passes for a tradition."

Astrid snorted. "Charming. So we're talking a month at least, maybe two at most?"

"I guess," Hiccup sighed gustily. "I am so, so sorry, Astrid."

"Hey," she nudged him. "I'm not mad. Well, no wait, I lie, I _am_ mad, but mostly at the stupid timing. And at your dad."

"If you're going to beat him up, can I sell tickets?" he asked hopefully, and she smacked him on the arm. "No really, that would be a way better duel to watch."

She traced the thin line that streaked under his eye and crossed the bridge of his nose. "I don't know, yours was pretty gripping."

He huffed and kissed the back of her hand, before folding it between his own. "I don't want to go, Astrid," he said seriously, "but I don't see how I can get out of it. Dad's adamant, and well, as the Chief of Berk's son and with the whole story behind meeting Toothless, and the Queen Dragon and everything, I guess I really am the best one to put it to a Chief's Council."

"I know," she leaned her head against his shoulder, looking down at her captured hand. "I know. Doesn't mean I like it. When do you leave?"

"Apparently we leave in three days. Nice of Dad to give me so much notice, huh?" Hiccup rolled his eyes. "Honestly, it's like he thinks I'll just bundle us both onto Toothless and take off if he tells me with enough time to, I don't know, _blink_."

Astrid's mouth quirked. "Hmm."

"What?"

"That's an… interesting idea."

"Wha… _no,_ Astrid. That way lies shouting and angry mobs."

"It'd just be your Dad," she scoffed.

"Astrid, you know him right? Seen the size of him? Believe me, he qualifies as a mob."

She dug his ribs in retaliation. "Baby."

"So I like breathing. How does this make me a baby, exactly?" He dug her ribs back. She squealed, and laughing, he pressed the attack. They traded pokes in the ribs for a few moments until Astrid's hair was coming out of her headcloth and Hiccup's face was very red. She giggled at his blush – still adorable after three months of marriage – and managed one last sneaky jab to his stomach.

"Help, domestic abuse!" Hiccup gasped, laughing.

"Baby!" she chortled.

He sat up straighter, his smile dropping, and wrapped her in his long, long arms. "Don't _want_ to go," he mumbled against the wisps of escaping blonde.

"I know," she said against his collarbone. "I know."

And then, as it was so handily there and all, she _bit_ it.

His collarbone held a particular fascination for Astrid. Ever since that day over four months ago when he'd come home from the Brass Monkey dragon delegation, she'd had a certain fixation on it. Hiccup had taken to wearing a lot of higher collars, as she often left him with the half-moon indentations of her sharp, white teeth.

This particular trait of hers had an unusual effect on him. Every time she bit his collarbone, he was automatically and immediately _on fire_. He groaned loudly.

"We… don't have time… right now, Astrid," he managed, and she made a noise of assent.

And bit him again.

With a moan, Hiccup gave up on that particular fight, lifting her head and claiming her lips. His hands pushed at the headcloth until it slipped down over her coiled braids, and he tugged gently at the ties as he kissed her insistently, threading his fingers through her hair until it was loose.

She helped him by pulling away briefly and shaking her head, her heavy tresses falling around her face. Then she hooked her hands underneath his tunic and pulled it off roughly.

"Astrid…!" he hissed as she pulled her own tunic off and pressed him down against the furs. "We… mmm…"

"We'll be quick," she said promisingly.

"We will?" he said weakly.

"Oh yes," she answered roguishly.

After three months, this was comfortable and familiar territory. The body of the other had been well and truly mapped, each sensitive area logged and accounted for. And yet, it was still the most wonderful and astonishing thing, still new and amazing. Hiccup honestly thought he'd never be able to tire of her, of her taste, of the feel of her, of the noises she made.

"Astrid…" he croaked.

She smiled against the skin on his stomach. Though he'd grown up a lot while he'd been in Brass Monkey, there was still absolutely no way he was ever going to fill the massively muscular silhouette of the traditional Viking warrior. He still had trouble understanding that Astrid actually found him –him- attractive. More than attractive, she said. She thought he was _gorgeous_. And she hadn't been the only one.

And to him, that was just _weird_.

Obviously the gods had struck the women of Midgard with some sort of selective blindness. Otherwise, Ruffnut and Astrid and Oglaranna (and occasionally Gerda – which was disturbing) would have spotted that he was tall and weedy and skinny and not very strong – and he freckled like a toadstool after a day in the sun. Then there was the foot thing, and brand new scars from his duel – although Astrid liked them. She said they were heroic.

Hiccup liked them because she'd been the one to sew him up. She'd put her mark right into his skin.

She was mouthing along the one high on his chest, the one that could have carried away his life. He hissed as she dipped from the line where it crossed his pectoral and nibbled on his nipple as she always did. Though it was the same thing she'd done ever since he'd been healed enough, it never failed to make him shiver. He grasped her hips tightly as her fingers scrabbled at the ties on his leggings.

"Foot comes off," she puffed inelegantly against his chest. "Now."

And that was another thing. She honestly _didn't care_ about his foot, it made no difference to her one way or the other. He'd spent almost two and a half years hating everything to do with it. He'd hated being reminded of it and he'd worked himself down to wire trying to improve it to the point where he could walk and run and jump like everyone else. Every setback had been crushing.

Astrid, though…

He lifted his hips as she tugged his leggings down, and then rocked forward against her in order to kiss and nuzzle her breast through the band she always wore to keep then bound against her body. She made that wonderful little whine she always made when her arousal kicked up a notch. Her fingers, now used to the task, scrabbled under his bunched leggings to unclip the buckles holding his leg on. It clattered to the floor, and she pulled the leggings off entirely.

She really didn't care. It was only important to her insofar as it was something to consider occasionally: when fighting or flying or training or loving. She loved _him_, and to her his missing foot was inconsequential. Hiccup had always felt that it would have been hard for him to love her any more. That day in the cove when she had kissed his stump, she had proven him wrong.

Speaking of hard –

Astrid was pulling her breast-band over her head as she clambered back up his body. He buried his face between her breasts and thumbed her nipple, and she sucked a breath between her teeth.

"Quick," she breathed, as he pushed her leggings down, his hand sliding against her soft leg. She kicked them off, pausing as her breath hitched due to that roving hand sliding between her thighs and his long, nimble fingers toying with her. Normally she loved that and could happily let him explore her for ages, but today she seemed caught up in the urgency.

"Quickquickquick!" she growled, and he rubbed against that little button that drove her totally mental.

"Yes, ma'am," he gasped, and she tugged his shoulders as she lay back, pulling him over her. Her strong little hand grabbed and positioned him, and they let out a groan in chorus as he pushed into that beautiful hot place.

Gods, his life had changed so much.

She was so amazing. Her blue eyes had half-lidded as he began to move, and her lips had cracked from panting, her long fringe sticking to her forehead and eyelashes. She kept getting annoyed with that fringe, but he loved it – loved the way she tossed her head to get it out of her eyes, loved the way it escaped the traditional headcloth she had donned the day after their wedding. He loved her hair so much, the sun-coloured wealth of it, and ran his fingers through the soft, baby-fine strands at her temple. She grabbed his hand and sucked on his finger.

The world contracted to _one very important thing._

He started to move faster as her tongue swirled around his digit and teeth scraped softly over his nail. Her heavy-lidded eyes glittered with the knowledge of what she did to him. Well, she could hardly miss it, he'd turned into cast iron when she popped his finger in her mouth. He pressed harder against the softness-over-steel of her knowing she loved a closer angle, and nipped at her neck in revenge. Her lips parted soundlessly as she arched, white teeth flashing, and he fixed his mouth over her small, perfect breast and flicked the nipple rapidly with his tongue-tip.

She was whimpering now, but mixed with the whimpers were noises of insistent haste. "Okay, okay," he choked, and started to drive into her. She liked that, liked hard and fast and messy. Her mouth opened in a silent cry. He wanted to remember the curve of her neck in this moment, wanted to remember it forever. Hooking her leg over his hip, Hiccup balanced against his knees and pushed as hard as he could.

He was going to win this race, he could tell by the tingle in his toes and the melted-steel feeling already taking over his limbs. She could sense it too, he noted, and used the leg over his hip to pull him tighter, her hands clutching reflexively at his shoulders.

Too fast, too fast, too…

He slammed against her as he tried to muffle his strangled yelp, his head full of her, the feel of her, the strong and stubborn sweetness. He poured himself into her, his breath catching and his vision blurring for a second, his mouth open and slack. Apparently she thought he looked hilarious at that moment.

He was simply glad he had that moment, and could have it again. With her.

Panting heavily, he drew out of her, and immediately pushed her legs back against her chest. Trial and error (more error than trial, really) had taught him that although he had it pretty easy in these matters, Astrid needed a warm-up and it was not a good idea to waste work well done.

She was very, very wet this time, and as he swiped his tongue along her he could taste himself mingled with her. The taste wasn't exactly _pleasant_, but he liked it anyway, liked what it meant. He latched onto what she called 'Frigga's bumpy little gift' and sucked and hummed and laved as hard as he could, not easing up the pressure at all.

It seemed to be exactly what she was after, as not two minutes later she was writhing, her head flopping side to side and her legs clamping around his head. He slowed as her breathing evened. He'd learned the hard way that after her moment of pleasure, she was painfully hypersensitive. The hard way had involved being kicked in the stomach. Finally, he sat up and wiped his mouth.

She looked at him lazily from where she sprawled, and grinned. "Told you it'd be quick."

* * *

"Hey guys, you hungry?"

Hiccup dumped the basket of fish in front of the Night Fury and the Nadder. Toothless immediately perked up and started rooting through them, trying to eat his favourites before the finicky Nadder could steal them.

Spike looked at the black dragon with barely-concealed irritation, and went on grooming her tail-darts with a haughty dignity. Hiccup's hands landed on his hips, and he regarded Astrid's birdlike friend with amusement.

"Y'know, you can push him out of the way if you like the cod so much," he pointed out, and Spike paused from her grooming long enough to huff through her nostrils at him. Hiccup laughed softly and placed a fond hand on her head above her deadly spiked collar, before pushing Toothless' blunt head from the middle of the fish pile. "There you go."

Spike squawked and pounced on the fish thus revealed, and Toothless gave a cross purling rumble. Hiccup scratched his ear. "Well, can't have you bullying the new girl, can we?" he said jovially, and Toothless barked at him.

"Manners," Hiccup scolded, before sitting with his back against his best friend's broad side.

It had been a month since the dragons had woken from their winter sleep, and Toothless had not been pleased to find that there was another dragon he was expected to share space with. Hiccup had honestly thought the pair of them might have set the house alight several times during those first two weeks. Spike had been nervous and edgy, settling into a new house with new people, and Toothless had been defensive and possessive. Territorial boundaries had been drawn up with the precision of battle-lines, and it was only through the intervention of Astrid that Spike hadn't let loose with a volley of darts when Toothless kept stealing fish meant for the vain and picky Nadder.

Toothless had sullenly accepted the Nadder's presence in their lives. He made his displeasure felt by shouldering her away from food and hovering over it like a sulky black thundercloud, and refusing to let her enter through a doorway before him. All the doors (and the trap to their loft) now had claw-marks ringing the jambs and frames. Hiccup hoped he gave that up soon, he was tired of planing and sanding them back.

Eventually, however, the two prickly dragons had settled down and the lodge had started to gain a sense of normalcy. Their bickering was now just another part of life in the Haddock household, and the threat of a lightning-firebolt or a tail-dart was a distant memory. Hiccup had built a large perch on the roof of the lodge for Spike as she loved to bask in the sun and to crow at all passing birds and dragons, and that had certainly helped the situation. Spike definitely appreciated having a place that was entirely her own. Since the advent of warmer weather she even slept up there occasionally, roosting and squawking at the dawns like a multicoloured chicken.

Toothless had also not been happy to find new marks on his best friend. The scars from the duel with Oglaranna had been barely healed when the Night Fury awoke, and, dizzy from hunger and disoriented from hibernation, Toothless had grabbed Hiccup close and refused to let anyone near him for almost three hours. It had taken a lot of fast talking for him to let Hiccup go. It was only when Hiccup allowed the dragon to snuffle carefully along the reddened lines that Toothless finally relented.

Telling him the story of the duel hadn't been such fun either. The dragon had obviously felt furious that someone had_dared_ attempt to hurt his human, and was contemptuous of the reasons behind it. Evidently dragons were a lot more straightforward than people when it came to the whole 'picking a partner' thing. Toothless' ears had twitched with worry and his eyes had been huge with anxiety as Hiccup, trapped in his scaled forepaws, tried to explain the situation. He obviously blamed himself for not being there, and it made him clingy and overprotective for weeks afterwards.

One thing Hiccup hadn't considered (and gods was it embarrassing) was that both dragons had a far keener sense of smell than any Viking. So he didn't even need to tell Toothless that he was married now. After releasing his boy, the dragon had sniffed curiously at him again for a few seconds – and then his large blunt head swung directly to Astrid and his eyes widened.

Then Toothless turned back to Hiccup, and showed him what a dragon's smirk was like.

Cheeky reptile.

That smirk had become a familiar expression on _both_ dragons. After Hiccup and Astrid had loved each other, it was practically guaranteed to cross the face of one or the other. Matter of fact, it was crossing Toothless' now.

"Shut up, you're as bad as Tuff," Hiccup grumbled, elbowing Toothless' ribs.

Toothless gave his coughing laugh, and turned back to his fish.

* * *

"Wear your bearskin cloak," Astrid instructed, pulling his tunic roughly into place. The rough spring wind howled along the decking of the pier blowing her hair from her headcloth, and she had to raise her voice slightly to be heard over the shouts of the longship's crew. "And don't stammer."

"Gotcha, no stammering," he said obediently. "Why the bearskin?"

"It looks impressive," she shrugged, and handed him his travel-roll. "This convocation is a big deal according to your dad, and you'll be meeting some of these Chiefs for the first time. When you take over here-"

"Which is the kind of thought to keep a guy awake at night," Hiccup said dryly, and she prodded his ribs again. He grinned.

"-When you take over here, those Chiefs are going to be important to know. Try to make a good impression?"

"Me? Astrid, how can they fail to be impressed by all this? I'm so impressive their heads will spontaneously explode." He puffed out his narrow chest self-mockingly. She smiled, before it crumpled slightly and she wrapped her arms around him. "Hey… hey now, Astrid, I'll be back before you know it."

She looked up at the longship, before tucking her head into his shoulder. "You be careful," she growled against him.

"Come on, Astrid, I'm going to be surrounded by a wall of Vikingdom. What could possibly happen?" he smoothed her hair back.

"That is not a reassuring question," she grated, her face still hidden.

He kissed the top of her head. "You be careful too," he said, a lump rising in his throat. "Anything, anything at all, you jump on Spike and come get me, okay?"

She nodded, her hands fisting in his fur vest.

Toothless purred and barked, pushing his head underneath Astrid's arm, and she scratched his head absently, pulling back from Hiccup and rubbing roughly at her face with her free hand. "I should be going with you," she muttered.

"I wish you were," Hiccup said softly. "Gods, I wish you were."

She visibly pulled herself together, her chin rising stubbornly. "Eat well, don't get into any more duels, and I'll see you in a few months, okay? And for Thor's sake, take your hammer _everywhere_."

The lump in his throat had turned into a boulder. "Okay."

She patted Toothless' head again, and glanced down at him. "You look after him."

Toothless gave his rumbling sound of affection, pressing his heavy body against her legs. Then he whirled with a Night Fury's astonishing agility and leapt to the deck of the longship in two bounds. There were the usual muffled cries of 'Night Fury!' and 'Get down!' before Toothless had ensconced himself snugly at the bow.

Hiccup shook his head, smiling at his friend's antics. Turning back to his lovely wife he opened his mouth to say something, but then a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. "Casting off now, son," Stoick said with sympathetic understanding. "Best get on board."

"Right, Dad," Hiccup managed. Stoick's hand patted his shoulder twice, before the bulky Chief moved down the pier and hauled himself aboard.

"I made you something," Astrid said abruptly.

"You made _me_ something?" Hiccup was surprised. That was generally his domain. He made things, she did things. It was a good distribution of talents.

"Don't sound so surprised," she said tartly. "Here."

She took his hand, turning it palm-up, and put a small roll of felt into it. He turned it over, and smiled at the inexpertly-sewn little pouch, shaky and squiggly runes stitched into the front. There was the call for protection to Odin, Frigga and Thor, the plea for mercy to Urd, and in the centre, sewn down into a circle with red thread, a lock of sun-gold hair. Inside was a black scale, and a blue one tied together with that same red thread.

"It's not very good," she said uncomfortably.

"It's perfect," he said, and he pressed it back into her hands. "Put it on? Tie it tight, I don't want to lose it."

She let out a choked laugh. "You sap. Bend down then, you're too tall."

He bent his head, and her fingers trembled against his neck as she lowered it over his head and tied it. "There," she said softly.

As she was so close and all, he kissed her. She slid her arms tighter around his neck, and he pulled her long, lithe body closer. She smelled good.

"You smell good. I love you. Gods, I am going to miss you. I'll be home soon," he breathed, before kissing her again.

"You'd better, or I'll hunt you down," she promised, her hands sliding into his hair.

"I'm counting on it," he said, and kissed her again, before tearing himself away from her warmth, her sweetness, her utter Astridness. Throwing his travel-roll onto the deck, he hauled himself up onto the longship and tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes.

She looked very small and very stubborn when he looked back down at the deck, and he fingered the pouch at his neck. "Hey, Astrid?" he called.

"What?"

"Cast off!" cried the bo'sun, Spitelout, and Hiccup had to shout louder to be heard over the creaking of sails and the swearing of sailors at their oars.

"Your headcloth!" He waved it triumphantly. She swore and put her hand on her uncovered head.

"You idiot!"

"You're amazing!" He laughed at her expression as the longship pulled away, a mix of irritation and love, so perfectly Astrid.

"I hate you, Hiccup Haddock!"

"I love you too!"

"Don't do anything crazy!"

"Now, where's the fun in that?"

"I love you!"

"I know!"

"Give it a rest," Stoick muttered.

* * *

_So! Thoughts?_


	2. Chapter 2

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

* * *

Hiccup felt very, very small.

The men and women around him were built like architecture – massive slabs of flesh, huge rooftree arms and giant pillar legs. The all spoke in massive, booming voices, and could probably bench-press a longship. Each.

Phlock was bigger than Berk, a prosperous trading town between the other islands and the mainland. It snuggled into a wide harbour, hazy mountain peaks behind it. The buildings were pressed together closely, the streets narrower. A pall of smoke hung over it, and the huge, impressive mead-hall was placed high in the centre of the settlement, overlooking the houses and pier. Its massive doors were bound in burnished brass, hanging tapestries tied against the stone walls in honour of the occasion. Dragon-mouthed pennants snapped on the tall wooden flagpoles. A wide square opened out before it, ringed with stalls, and this was where the Viking clans were to assemble.

Toothless had caused a sensation amongst those Chiefs who had only heard of the dragon peace of Berk. Those Chiefs (and one Chieftess) who had been host to one of the diplomatic missions looked on in amusement as Toothless obediently trotted behind the skinny young lad, his blunt head swinging curiously, and men the size of mountains dove out of his sight. Like the inhabitants of Berk, Toothless was definitely the only Night Fury these Vikings had ever seen, and so even berserkers with no fear of death shrank back from the legendary creature.

Once they had calmed enough to be in the same place as the dragon, it was Toothless himself who calmed their fears. Huffing loudly and petulantly, he slumped over onto his side in the middle of the Phlock village hall and whined sulkily. Several warriors pointed their axes or spears at him in response to the sudden movement.

"Devil beast," one muttered, and another was praying fervently to Thor.

"IT'S NOT THAT BAD, YOU KNOW."

"Shut up, you loud-voiced harridan, you'll draw its attention!"

"SUIT YOURSELF."

"What is it, bud?" Hiccup leaned over to his friend, and then whispered fervently, "Don't do anything scary, okay? Please? Work with me here."

Toothless made a noise like 'huuuruum?", opened his big green eyes as wide as they would go, and rolled over, baring his belly.

There were a few indrawn breaths, and someone hissed, "stab it! Stab it now!"

"Just watch," Stoick said firmly.

Hiccup chuckled at the pleading look in Toothless' eye, and started scratching his belly. The softer scales on his underside were softer and looser than on his forepaws, and Toothless lidded his eyes in pleasure. The scales were slightly dry and flaky in places, and Hiccup made a mental note to get some honey-ointment to shine them up.

"Rrrmuuuum…." Toothless wriggled in delight, purring happily.

"It's… happy?" a warrior said uncertainly.

"Bloody lizard loves its belly scratched," Stoick said in peevish confirmation. "I'd be fine wi' that, except he keeps knocking over the furniture when he rolls."

"Toothless?" Hiccup asked softly. "You okay if I ask someone to join me here?"

Toothless opened one eye, snorted in indifference, and resumed purring.

"O-kay," Hiccup said in amusement, before raising his head and his voice to the surrounding Chiefs and warriors. "Anyone else want to have a go at scratching his belly?"

There was a profound silence.

"Come on, guys," Hiccup tried joking, "my hands are seizing up here, and there's a lot of dragon left."

Were there crickets on this island?

Stoick sighed gustily. "Looks like they're all too overjoyed to move, son."

"I'll have a go," came a voice, and Hiccup craned his head to see the speaker.

The fellow who pushed his way through the assembled tree-like Vikings was a young man, maybe two or three years older than Hiccup. He was maybe a few inches taller as well, and considerably bulkier, though nowhere near the average size of the rest of the gathering. He had nondescript brown hair, wide, guileless eyes and a wide-mouthed smile. "Name's Alberich," he said cheerfully. "Call me Al."

"You got a weapon on you, Al, you'd better get rid of it first," Hiccup said warningly, and Alberich shrugged, pulling an axe from the sleeve over his shoulder and swung it into the hard-packed sod.

Starting towards the dragon, Al was startled into stillness by a rumble from Toothless, whose eyes had opened to slits. "Why's it doing that?" the young man asked nervously.

"_He_," said Hiccup pointedly. "Um, why _are_ you doing that?" he turned to Toothless, whose rumble was rising in pitch to become a growl.

Toothless tossed his head and snorted again, before nosing Hiccup's hip.

"Ohhh," Hiccup realised. "Al, you've got more weapons on you," he said decisively, turning to the stranger. "No dragon will ever put up with a weapon close to it in hands it doesn't personally know."

"Sensible," said the Chief of Phlock, Upchuck, in a surprised tone.

"Dragons are nothing if not practical," Hiccup replied dryly. "Might want to lose some hardware there, Al."

Al scowled for a brief moment, before a sheepish smile crossed his face. "Sorry," he said with an apologetic little shrug. "I'm always forgetting they're there – part of the morning ritual, y'know?"

He pulled two daggers from his sleeves, one from the top of his boot and a hatchet tucked into the back of his tunic, piling them on the ground beside his axe. Hiccup's eyebrows rose.

"You must have some serious issues," he said.

"M'dad taught me to always keep 'em close," Al said, smiling still. "That's all – oh, wait…"

He reached a hand around behind his neck, and pulled out a thin, vicious little knife. "_Now_ that's all," he said with satisfaction.

"You really feel safe with all that pointy steel right next to your skin?" Hiccup said in astonishment as Al slowly walked up towards the settling Toothless.

"Hey, I could say the same about you – you're the one with his hands all over the fire-breathing dragon," Al pointed out with a smirk, and Hiccup laughed.

"There's a point."

The surrounding clansmen all held their breath as Al stepped closer and closer to the Night Fury, whose eyes were now lidded once more as he enjoyed Hiccup's ministrations. They all leaned back slightly, their blocky, bearded faces apprehensive, as Hiccup grabbed Al's wrist and directed it to the loose scales under the dragon's ribs.

"Soft," Al said in surprise. Toothless made a descending whine, and Hiccup resumed scratching.

"Okay, okay, hold it, sheesh," he muttered to his friend. "Yeah, they're softer on the underside. I need to oil him, see here?" He moved Al's hand to where the scales got patchy and flaky. "That's from rolling around in the sand. And from the harness."

Al began scratching at the flaky scales, and Toothless purled in contentment. "Hey," Al said, laughing in wonder, "he likes it!"

"Told you," Stoick said smugly, and the other Vikings let out their breath in one choral _whoosh_.

"Harness?" asked Upchuck dubiously.

"Oh, didn't Dad tell you?" Hiccup smirked at Al, who raised an eyebrow curiously. "You're going to like this."

* * *

"Okay, bud, now dive, dive, dive!" Hiccup yelled, and Toothless barked assent as they rolled over one wing and swooped towards the village of Phlock, far below. A cacophony of screams, hollers and shouts greeted them as they shot faster than an arrow over the assembled Chieftains' heads, and a cheer rose up as Toothless banked on a wingtip to hover motionless over the sea.

"What do you say we give them a big finish?" Hiccup said into the flattened black ear, and Toothless shook his head in readiness. Dipping his wings, Hiccup changed the gear on the tailfin and they fell like a stone directly for the choppy waves. Hiccup distantly heard yells of horror.

At the last minute, he pressed back with his metal foot, and the Night Fury barrelled horizontally across the surface of the sea, spinning and darting faster than could be followed. He levelled, spreading his wings wide towards the sun as Hiccup thumped his back in congratulations, and spat a bolt of fire at the horizon.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Hiccup groaned as the rush of hot air blew back into his face.

Toothless ignored him with dignity, and warbled happily as he turned back towards the island, flapping furiously and raising clouds of dust as he settled back in the village square. The assembled had to hold their hands in front of their faces to avoid choking.

"Phew," Hiccup patted his friend's head once more, before swinging his leg down from Toothless' back and stretching a little. Hunching over Toothless' harness could occasionally get uncomfortable. "Anyone got any fish?" he said absently.

"Fish?"

"THEY LIKE FISH."

"What, Berkians?"

"NO, DRAGONS, YOU GREAT NINNY."

"Oh."

"Does he like salmon?" Al shouted, and Toothless sat up, ears perking upwards.

"Does he ever," Hiccup grinned. "Only thing they don't like is smoked eel, far as I can tell."

Al came forward, made bolder by his success earlier, holding two large salmon by the lips. "Do I… put them on the ground…?" he asked dubiously.

Toothless made the question moot by creeping forward, his teeth retracted. Al looked puzzled by the empty gums. "How's he supposed to eat them if he GREAT THOR ALMIGHTY...!"

Toothless had extruded his teeth and grabbed the first fish, as was his normal custom with new people. Hiccup rolled his eyes. "Ignore that. He thinks he's funny. Did the same thing to me when I met him."

"He can… pull his teeth in?" asked the Chief of Freezing-To-Death, Hangnail. "That's plain _weird_."

Hiccup shrugged, placing a hand on Toothless' head as he gulped down the other fish. "I guess, but so far as I can tell, Night Furies are the only dragons who can. I think it's got something to do with the kind of fire he breathes."

"Aye, makes sense," said Hangnail thoughtfully.

"Now that you've seen a friendly dragon, I'm sure you can see why we made friends wi' them," Stoick said pointedly, and several Chiefs started nodding, though others still looked sceptical and one or two downright hostile. "I suggest we take this into the mead-hall an' think it over."

"He means 'drink it over'," Al whispered in Hiccup's ear, and he chuckled.

"Does he ever."

"Hiccup!" Stoick boomed, looking back at his son. "You'll be needed to tell the story tonight, so don't you go wandering off, hear me?"

"Yes, dad," Hiccup raised an eyebrow. "No wandering off. Got it."

"Protective," commented Al, as Hiccup started taking off Toothless' tail rig. The assembled crowd began to make their way enthusiastically towards the mead-hall (and the ale), talking excitedly about the demonstration.

"Well, I can't really blame him," Hiccup said in a resigned tone. "I'm all he's got, though even that wasn't much until three years ago, and I almost died."

"Died?" Al knitted his brow, and Hiccup shrugged uncomfortably, unbuckling the saddle and scratching at the scales revealed perfunctorily.

"You'll hear the story tonight."

"That's some gadget," Al nodded to the tailfin. "Do you control them with that, then?"

"No!" Hiccup bundled the saddle and fin together under his arm. "No. It's… look, it's all in the story tonight. And Toothless is hopefully the only dragon who'll ever need one of these, ever again."

Al held up his hands in a gesture of conciliation. "Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to step on a nerve."

"It's okay," Hiccup ran a hand through his hair. His finger caught on the string of the pouch Astrid had given him, and he grasped it tightly, missing her dreadfully. "You'll understand once you hear about it."

* * *

Later that night, Hiccup was propped up on one of the tables, handed a tankard and told to speak.

"You guys are all so drunk that there is no way in Hel you're going to remember all this," Hiccup said testily. The ale in the tankard smelled green, and he didn't feel like having the stomach-ache that came with green beer.

The Chieftains all roared and thumped the tables in indignation at the very _insinuation_ that they couldn't hold their drink. Hiccup let his head fall back in exasperation.

"This. Is possibly. The most humiliating moment. I have had. All. Year," he said conversationally to the ceiling. He figured he had more chance having a decent conversation with _it_ rather than that bunch of hairy lunatics.

"Get on wi' it, Hiccup!" Stoick roared. His helmet was askew, and he had an arm clapped around Upchuck's shoulders.

"Okay, all right!" Hiccup yelled back from his vantage point on the table.

"This bard's rotten!" Hangnail slurred. "Where'sh the shaga, then?"

"Hey, that's my son!" Stoick lurched towards him, and Hiccup clapped his hand over his eyes.

"Freyr, give me patience," he groaned. Then he took a deep breath, and pitched his voice to carry. He'd become somewhat used to public speaking since the diplomatic mission to Brass Monkey, but he'd never had to tell the whole story. This was going to be… not so amazing.

He dropped his hands, balled them tightly. Then he lifted his chin. Green eyes hardened.

"I was fourteen. I was the village screw-up. I was small and weak and weedy and I would never amount to anything."

Al's face abruptly whipped towards him. His wide, guileless face was astonished.

"He's still small and weak…"

"That's _my son_."

"…and a fine lad, a fine lad, Stoick…"

"OH, THAT'S WHAT THAT JOKE WAS ABOUT!"

"Shut _up_, 'Ranna!"

"I've always been good at inventing, so I got apprenticed to our blacksmith, Gobber, when I was little. I invented a spinning bola that could be shot from a cannon. I took down a Night Fury." Hiccup swallowed, his eyes darting to where the dragon sat curled before the roaring fire in the middle of the floor. "No one believed me."

"Aye, that's because we'd heard it all before," Spitelout said pointedly.

"And that's because they'd heard it all before," Hiccup repeated resentfully. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, I went and found the Night Fury – Toothless – and I made friends with him."

"You don't... control him?" Al raised an eyebrow.

Hiccup scowled. "You don't control friends. And we really are just that - _friends_. He understands more than you'd think, and I understand him. He didn't want to trust me - not that I can blame him - but we kept learning more and more about each other. Eventually it was just obvious that we weren't all that different.

"Listen, dragons aren't what we thought they were! They're clever, affectionate, funny and stubborn - emphasis on stubborn - but most of all, they're peaceful. A dragon won't attack if there's no reason. Unfortunately we were giving them reasons. Lots of them."

"Rubbish! Dragons were makin' off with our livestock every week!" shouted a warrior, and several others thumped the table in agreement.

"Okay, but there was a reason for that too! One I'll get to in a second. Just let me explain everything else that was going on..." Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the carved rooftree, thinking.

"Right, so while I'm out making friends with Toothless, I'd been put into dragon training. I know, I know, the irony, right?"

Several Vikings chuckled.

"Anyway, I wasn't the best dragon fighter Berk has ever seen, let's put it that way. But spending time with Toothless taught me more about dragons - and I started to use that. Did you know that they _hate_ eel? You want a dragon to stay away from something, put a smoked eel on top. They'll stay away from it like it's diseased. Toothless taught me more and more all the time - and it didn't take long before I was leading the class, even though I hadn't thrown a weapon."

"Damndest thing I've ever seen," Spitelout nodded blearily.

"You're just jealous b'cause Hiccup beat Snotlout," Stoick said dismissively, and Spitelout growled. It could have degenerated into a fight (another thing these gatherings were prone to) but Hiccup started up his tale hurriedly, forcing the pair to calm back down.

"When I brought Toothless down, I… I injured him. I tore off his tailfin." Hiccup clambered down from the table to his dragon, and spread the single remaining fin, holding it up for the assembled to see. Toothless lifted his head curiously, studying his rider. Then he pushed under Hiccup's hand until his fingers were flat against his nose.

Hiccup looked down at his friend helplessly. Toothless always did that, recreated that first moment when he touched his nose, whenever Hiccup was feeling guilty. It helped, sometimes.

"Dragon can't fly wi'out both fins," Hangnail slurred.

Hiccup nodded, still looking at his best friend, whose pupils had expanded with understanding and love. "I know. Well, eventually I knew. I made that tailfin for him, and we worked and worked until we could fly in unison. I couldn't kill him when I first saw him, and I couldn't take the sky away from him either."

Toothless blinked slowly at him. Hiccup rubbed the soft nose comfortingly.

"You invented that whole set-up?" Al asked, his eyes somehow shrewd.

"Yeah," Hiccup shrugged. "There was a long, long testing process," he added wryly.

Toothless whuffled in amusement, and Hiccup nudged him with his side.

"Anyway, we were out flying when suddenly Toothless started going off course. I had no idea what was happening, and neither did Ast… did my wife. We were surrounded by other dragons all flying to the same place, dragging in sheep and fish and cattle. They hadn't eaten any of it. They were taking it all to the same place we were going."

Hiccup took a deep breath. "Toothless took us to the dragon's nest."

A massive gasp echoed through the hall.

"I take it back. The bard's okay," whispered Hangnail.

"It was this massive mountain deep in Helheim's Gate, a giant cave hollowed out and full of dragons - all of which dumped their kill into a smoke-filled hole in the middle. A Gronkle only had a fish to give – looked like cod – and this head the size of a _house_ comes and snaps him up."

Toothless whined low in his throat.

"It ate that Gronkle without _chewing_," Hiccup added in a sickened voice.

The hall was now silent. Hiccup patted at Toothless' head to disguise the nervous twitching of his hands.

"Now, I know some of you are not going to agree with the decision I made next," Hiccup straightened and lifted his chin, a tall, slight figure in the middle of the hall. "I had to choose between my best friend, and telling my village about the nest. I... I chose my friend."

There was a rumble of discontent. Hiccup held up his hands. "Only for that moment! I was going to think of something, really I was! I... had no idea what it was going to be, but it would have been _something_, let me tell you!"

He sighed, his hands dropping. "The decision got taken away, anyway. I won training - me! I won training! And so I got the honour of killing a dragon. Yay, I couldn't wait.

"I actually got through to that Nightmare at first, you know?" he smiled a bit ruefully. "She's a bit skittish, but she's all right. As is typical of my life, right at that moment something went wrong. She got spooked."

"My fault," Stoick sighed.

"It's okay, Dad. I'm fine, and so is Jorma." Hiccup smiled reassuringly over at his father.

"My son rides that Nightmare," Spitelout said proudly.

"It's thick even for a dragon," snorted Stoick, and this time Spitelout actually stood, rolling up his massive sleeves.

"Somehow Toothless heard it. And somehow he got there just in time to protect me from Jorma - oh, and totally give away the game. So all the secrets were out, and I was back in disgrace-ville, and the ships sailed off with Toothless to the dragon's nest."

"Stupidest decision ever made," said Spitelout snidely. Stoick ignored him loftily.

"Anyway, the ships get to the nest and crack it open, and all the lesser dragons fly away. And then that giant thing, that huge dragon queen, pulls down _half the mountain_ to get out of its den in order to kill our people. It fired our ships, too, so they were all trapped on the beach."

There was a groan from the Chieftains, and some sympathetic glances at Stoick. None of them would have wanted to be in such a hopeless situation.

"That's when me and five of my friends come flying in on the training dragons. I kinda get the feeling they were pleased to see us." Hiccup grinned.

"It was bloody marvellous, Hiccup!" Stoick thumped the table emphatically.

"My friends distracted the queen, and I freed Toothless from a burning ship – with help," Hiccup gave a small smile to his father, who raised his tankard. "Then we – me and Toothless – taunted that thing until it flew into the clouds."

He looked reflectively down at the scaled black head. "Toothless shot bolt after bolt into its wings, and so when we led it back down out of the cloud cover, they tore with the air pressure. And Toothless shot a last bolt into its mouth. They're not fireproof on the inside, you know. And believe me, _that_ was scary – its teeth were as tall as me…." Hiccup faltered. He hadn't ever told anyone this bit. Not out loud.

"Go on, lad," Stoick said gently, and the others murmured agreement.

Hiccup raised his chin, and he summoned every bit of Viking stubbornness he'd ever possessed. "The queen thing's fire had caught Toothless' tailfin," Hiccup said evenly, "and it came off. He can't control his direction without it, and… and we slammed into its tail as it exploded. I fell off."

Toothless whined and pushed his head harder under Hiccup's hand.

"Toothless caught me, but he had to bite my leg as I fell…" Hiccup swallowed. "He wrapped me in his wings to protect me from the blast. He saved my life."

"You saved the village," Spitelout said bluntly. "Foot's a small price to pay."

"Shut up," hissed Upchuck.

Stoick gave his fellow-chief a grateful look.

Hiccup scratched under Toothless' ear absently, and glanced down at his foot, at the Night Furies etched into metal. "No, he's right," he said with a wry smile. "Small price to pay, I guess. And I was never much of a dancer anyway."

There was a small chuckle that reverberated around the room.

"So, that's kind of it, really… since then, we've been learning more about the dragons. Now that the queen is dead, they don't attack villages any more, because they only need enough food for themselves. Most of them prefer fish, though Terrors and Boneknappers are pretty fond of goose. It was a bit of a tricky transition, but I think we're there. Lots of misconceptions on both sides. Everything we knew was _wrong_, totally wrong."

Hiccup looked down at Toothless, who nudged him. "Anyway, there's the story. That's how I met Toothless, actually killed a dragon, and lost a foot."

"And are you still in disgrace-ville?" Al asked sharply.

Hiccup met his father's eyes, and grinned his crooked grin. "Nope."

Al sat back, a wondering look in his eyes.

"Bloody good bard!" exclaimed Hangnail blearily. "Le'ss have another one!"

* * *

"So, how much of that was true?"

Hiccup looked up from his seat outside the Phlock mead-hall to see Alberich leaning against the doorjamb. "All of it."

Al whistled lowly. "Some tale, kid."

Hiccup leaned back and put down his tankard. He couldn't finish that green beer – it was making him feel queasy. "Yeah. What's yours?"

"Me?" Al seemed startled that anyone could ask.

"All those weapons. What's that all about?"

Al laughed sourly. "Oh, something my dad taught me. 'You gotta be prepared, Al-er, son, got to always be prepared. You've got to be the best, the fastest, the cleverest, the sneakiest Viking ever born'."

"That's a familiar tune," Hiccup snorted, and closed his eyes.

There was a slight grating sound as Al sat down beside him. "Where's the dragon?"

"Toothless? He's sleeping on the ship. He likes roosting upside down now and again, and the masts give him a perfect opportunity. The sailors _hate_ it because he tangles the lines." Hiccup smiled, his eyes still closed.

"So you were the screw-up too, then?" Al said eventually.

"I was the biggest failure _ever_. I'll bet you one silver my screw-ups out-screw your screw-ups," Hiccup's smile broadened and he opened his eyes to grin at Al.

"I'll take that bet," the young man said, a twinkle in his eye. "Right, there was a well, a lady who shall remain an extremely sexy and extremely married young woman, and the dashing young hero of our tale…"

"This would be you, then?" asked Hiccup, amused.

"Who else?" Al put a hand on his chest importantly. "Anyway, I'm fetching water for my father's third concubine, that sharp faced cow, when some complete idiot - or perhaps even Loki himself - pushes me in. I'm splashing and gasping and generally doing a good job of drowning before my hand catches something just above my head. It's a hand-hold, a carved one! I pulled myself up, and suddenly, _tunnel_. I'm thinking, hey, now I know why this well's never been full, there's got to be some money in that. And I climb up the little tunnel on my hands and knees for ages, and kid, it's a good thing I don't have a problem with small spaces. Or moss.

"I'm starting to feel like a mole when my head bashes against the end. Oh great, I think, _fantastic_, I'm trapped _and_ I have concussion. But when I reach out, the wall is wooden, and feeling around, there's a _latch_. It's a door, and I'm thanking Odin and promising his ravens a big fat chicken. I open the door, and then I'm thanking Odin for everything, because he obviously loves me. There's a lady in a room, just an ordinary room, and since it was wash day, she's in her bath.

"I'm taking it all as a sign, and taking off my filthy, mossy jerkin. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't thanking Odin for the lady - I was thanking him for the bath! I was disgusting, and there was something that stank in my hair and beard. Believe me, the bath was way more attractive."

Hiccup was smiling broadly now. Alberich certainly could spin a tale.

"Next minute, there's a man walking in, stopping at the sight of me, and then throwing an axe at me. So I guess Odin didn't love me that much after all," Al grinned and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Turns out the man was a rich trader who used the tunnel to smuggle goods, and he accused me of trying to rob him and molest his wife. When all I'd done was fall into a well and desperately want a bath! Good thing I've always been a fast runner!"

"That's pretty big," Hiccup had to concede when Al had finished. "But you should hear this…"

He launched into more detail regarding the night he shot down Toothless. "And so, there I am, the Nightmare just crushed my evidence, no one saw it and I'd just set five dragons free. With eight sheep. _That_ was a good day."

"Ouch," Al laughed, and handed over the silver without grudging. "So, you're pretty much the expert on the dragons, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah," Hiccup admitted, although he didn't like being singled out like that. "My friends and I can cover the lot, anyway, but I'm a bit ahead because I met Toothless earlier." He clasped the pouch again.

"You keep doing that," Al said curiously. "What's that all about? That little bag?"

Hiccup glanced down at it and smiled tenderly. "My wife, Astrid… she made it," he said softly. "First thing she's ever sewn. It's got her hair and a couple of scales from our dragons, and…" he chuckled wickedly, "I stole her headscarf. She's going to break my legs when I get home."

Al looked a bit alarmed that Hiccup was laughing as he said this. "That's a… good thing?"

Hiccup looked askance at him, and shrugged, still chuckling. "I guess you just have to know Astrid. She could kick the arse of things that don't have arses."

Al let out a peal of laughter. "Now that's a Viking woman!"

Hiccup grinned. "To Viking women!"

Al clanked his tankard against Hiccup's and they both drank.

* * *

_AN: Like it? Hate it? Want to pay me never to step near a keyboard again? Tell me!_


	3. Chapter 3

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Thank you for all the reviews! **Story master: **I'm afraid I have most of this written already (around twenty chapters at this point - hope you're up for a long ride!) though your ideas are fantastic! **OmarBarria:** Oh, there's going to be _lots _of Astrid, promise! And she's her usual fierce self, too!** Leon Woon & Foxy's Girl:** Wonderful to hear from you again, guys! *hugs* Thank you so much for the amazing reviews! **The Incredible Puba:**Oh, just you wait! There's _heaps _of action in this thing, Astrid definitely gets the chance to kick butt! **crouchbk: **It is indeed short for Jormagund, the world serpent, but as she is a _female_ Nightmare (and 'Lout didn't realise until after he'd named her!) he had to shorten it to Jorma, which is gender-neutral. Silly Snotlout! **Voldyne: **Aw, thanks!

Aaaaand _the plot thickens..._

* * *

Hiccup woke slowly. His head ached, and his stomach was queasy. He really should have known better than to drink green beer. He blinked his sandy eyes and squinted into the bright, harsh light.

"So you're awake then?" came the wry voice. "Thought you were going to miss all the fun."

"Al?" Hiccup croaked, pushing himself from the floor. Rough wooden boards greeted his palms, and he stared at them in bleary astonishment. "What's… what's going on…?"

"See, this is what happens when you take a nap, you skip all the fine details," Alberich started to come into focus as Hiccup looked around. He was in a small, dark, wooden room, barrels and bales heaped to one side. The creaking of the beams and the rocking of the floor made it almost feel like he was…

"We've been made the honoured guests of a bunch of enterprising gentlemen of the waves. Feel flattered."

…_at sea._

"Wha…?" Hiccup's head hurt far too much for Al's cleverness. "Where's Toothless?"

"A whole day's sailing _that_ way," Al said sourly, jerking his head.

"What!" Hiccup sat bolt upright, only to have his arms jerk back down painfully. He was shackled by the wrists, and the chains led to a heavy ring set into the cabin floor. "No, no, no!"

"There was something in the beer," Al said heavily. "The whole convocation nodded off. Your dragon wasn't around, and well… we were captured by pirates."

Hiccup's eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. "Pirates…?"

"Pirates," Al said grimly.

"Pirates," Hiccup repeated dumbly. Al tipped his head back in exasperation.

"Oh good, you've grasped the concept."

"Just us?" Hiccup said wildly. "I mean, they didn't get anyone else, did they? Are we alone? On a pirate ship? Great Thor, I've been captured by pirates. Pirates. I'll be home late. Oh gods. Pirates. Astrid's going to kill me."

Al looked bemused. "We're on a _pirate ship_ and you're worried about your wife?

"She's scary!" Hiccup snarled defensively, and started yanking on the chains as hard as he could. Which wasn't very.

"Good luck with that," Al said sardonically.

Hiccup ignored him and the pounding of his head, and kept yanking at the chains.

Al folded his own chained arms, and lay down on the rough floor. "Even if you do get loose, it's not like you'll be able to get very far."

Hiccup scowled. "Oh yeah?"

"One: You're on a ship in the middle of the ocean," said Al pleasantly, "and two: They took your leg."

Hiccup's eyes snapped down. Sure enough, his foot was gone, only the leather sock covering his stump. He felt his teeth grit in fury. How dare they. How _dare_ they.

"You didn't answer the first question," he grated at Al, his breath coming fast, "are we the only prisoners?"

Al shrugged. "I heard one say they only wanted the young men."

Hiccup's brows knit in confusion. "Why? Wouldn't they want valuables, jewels, women…?"

Rolling over, Al eyed Hiccup cautiously. "I think they're holding us for ransom."

Hiccup's breath stopped entirely.

Ransom was no small deal. A village the size of Berk couldn't get much wealth together, and as it was only early Spring, there was no harvest to gather as yet. Besides which, Hiccup was a valuable hostage. His status as next Chief, his knowledge of the dragons and his standing as a hero meant that these pirates would be asking for a huge sum. A sum Berk couldn't afford.

"Oh no," he whispered.

Al looked at him bitterly. "What are you worried about? Aren't you the golden boy?"

Hiccup flushed. "Stop that."

Closing his eyes and taking a breath, Al slumped back onto the floor. "Sorry."

There was a pause, in which Hiccup tried not to hyperventilate. He attempted to distract himself by studying the young man chained across from him. Al was lying very still, his eyes closed, although his fists were bunched in their shackles and his jaw was tight with tension.

"How about you?" he asked abruptly.

"What?" Alberich's eyes snapped open.

"Well, I've got a choice between panicking, or talking to you," Hiccup said pointedly. "I could always try panicking, but it's cramped enough in here without screaming."

Al's mouth quirked. "There's a good point. What about me?"

"Well, your village, for a start. Where are you from? Can they put a ransom up for you?"

A snort. "Not hardly. I'm from Freezing-to-Death, originally, but my father moved us to Sleet when I was fifteen or so. Sleet's small, and very poor. It's very close to Helheim's Gate, so the dragons stripped us of almost everything. There's nothing there for a ransom at all."

Hiccup gasped softly. With their demands unmet, the pirates would kill Alberich without a second thought. "I'm sorry."

Al grunted. "Yeah, well."

In the awkward silence, Hiccup felt a sense of hopelessness overwhelm him. He pushed it back with hard-headed Viking stubbornness. He wouldn't give in. He hadn't given in before, and it had looked far more hopeless then. Squashing his burgeoning misery, he felt for the pouch at his neck and relaxed infinitesimally when he touched the little bag of felt. It was going to be okay. It _would_.

It had to.

"So…" Hiccup fiddled with the large iron shackles. They were crude, and the craftsman in him itched to fix them up a bit, as senselessly contradictory as that was. "Why'd you come to Phlock?"

"Convocation," said Al shortly. "Don't know if you heard about it."

"Oh, ha ha ha," Hiccup said sarcastically. "Behold his mighty wit, tremble before his towering intellect and cower before his ironic repartee…"

"Shut up," Al said, his mouth turning up into a small grin.

"So, why'd you come to Phlock?"

"Hello? Did you hear what I mentioned about the dragons stripping Sleet bare?" Al huffed, and rolled over onto his side, looking at Hiccup with amusement. "There was a convocation about dragons. Of course we were going to send a representative."

"Yeah, but doesn't Sleet have a Chief or an Elder?" Hiccup asked, and Al pulled a face.

"Chief Bogbrush went of course, but I volunteered to go along. I wanted to know more about the dragons. Would have helped to know about that massive monster under the mountain – wouldn't have stopped the raids, but at least we'd have known _why_."

Hiccup winced. "Well, now you know?"

"I guess we do," Al smiled. "Anyway, the raids all stopped a few years ago, and we didn't understand _that_ either. It was just… weird. Don't get me wrong, it was great! But seriously weird. And so it's nice to have an answer to that as well."

"Does that mean the village is getting a bit more prosperous now?" Hiccup brightened. Maybe Al didn't have to die.

"We wish. Centuries of attacks have left their mark, you know." Al stretched as far as the chains allowed, and grimaced when he couldn't stretch further. "There are places on our island that won't grow food anymore – too fire-blasted over time and too full of dragon-gas. No, they're not going to be able to put anything up for my safe return." His face grew dark. "Not that they would."

Hiccup shunted closer to Al, his face creasing in concern. "Why?"

"Remember what I said about being the village screw-up?" Al retorted. "They're not going to care."

"Hey," Hiccup said softly. "I care."

"Thanks," Al said with a twisted smile, "got a fortune in your pocket? That'd really help a guy out of a pinch right now."

"Sorry, all out of fortunes," Hiccup said dryly. "And if it makes you feel any better, this golden boy's in the same boat. Berk's not rich, never has been. Better off than Sleet, it sounds like, but nowhere near as rich as Phlock. These pirates were looking for a rich man's son, and got two poor boys."

"That's what happens when you neglect the fine details," said Al sagely, and the two broke into slightly over-hysterical laughter.

Hiccup laughed long after Alberich had finished, his breath shaking into his chest. "Ahaha, oh gods…!" he gasped.

"What? Are you okay?" Al leaned forwards with quick concern.

Hiccup looked back up at him, his sides aching. "Pirates," was all he could say, before doubling over and shaking silently – with laughter or fury or tears, Al couldn't tell.

"Captured by pirates!" Hiccup wheezed.

Al's concern began to mount. "Hey," he began.

"No, no, I'm fine…" Hiccup pulled himself upright, wiping at his reddened face. "Just… watch me if I look like I'm about to go round the twist, okay? Gods, _Pirates_…" he groaned, and blew out an enormous breath.

At that moment there was a heavy clanking, and the door to the cramped little cabin opened. A thickset man with a dense black beard that began seemingly right under his eyes squeezed into the room, eyed both young men with an incurious, contemptuous expression, and threw down a knot of bread and a water skin. "Food," he grunted, and then stomped over to pull at their shackles, testing their soundness. Satisfied, he stomped back to the door, gave them one last disdainful glance and closed the door with a heavy _thump_. The rattling of a lock sounded, and his footsteps retreated back into the belly of the longboat.

"What a nice guy," Hiccup murmured into the sullen silence.

Surprised, Al let loose a choked laugh. "Must be a blast at parties."

"You said it," Hiccup leaned back. "Raconteur, poet, ladies' man…"

Al's laugh turned to a guffaw. "Ladies' man?"

"He'd have a sheep in every port," said Hiccup slyly, "but he'd never make honest mutton of 'em."

Al's shoulders shook. "Snazziest dresser I've ever seen."

"Does a great line in monster beards," Hiccup agreed, chuckling.

Al's laughter subsided with a sigh, and he relaxed back against the floor again. "Well, I can't fault his hospitality," he said sarcastically, reaching out casually with one hand and grabbing the loaf. "Here," he tore it in two and tossed one section to Hiccup.

"Oh great, meal-bread," Hiccup regarded it with distaste.

"Always tastes like sawdust," grumbled Al, and he ripped a piece off with his teeth. "Eurgh."

Hiccup sighed, and began to eat the coarse bread, grainhusks scratching at the insides of his mouth and his tongue. "Eaten a lot of meal-bread then?" he asked.

"Mmm," Al swallowed with difficulty, and reached over for the water skin. "My family are merchants – well, that's why we moved from Freezing-to-Death to Sleet. Freezing's just too busy, too much competition. We were middle-tier merchants there, fairly prosperous, but Dad wanted to do one better than everyone else. Remember what I told you? He thinks you've got to be the fastest, sneakiest Viking alive, just to survive. Dad thought the rumours about Sleet were exaggerations, well, you can imagine how pleased he was to be proved wrong. We've lost almost everything thanks to the dragon raids. I've got a shipment of sheepskins and leatherwork somewhere in these waters, and that's it. Our whole mercantile empire, down to sheepskins and a few leather bits and bobs."

"Al, I'm sorry," Hiccup said sympathetically.

Al shrugged again, and took a big gulp of water. His eyes slid away from Hiccup almost regretfully. "Yeah well, the Gods obviously hate me," he said absently.

"I've said that enough times," Hiccup offered with an understanding smile.

"And that's kind of why I never fitted in, too," Al said reflectively. "I'm not a tower of quivering muscle, so I couldn't fit in that way. And my mother is dead, my father's second wife is a pain in the proverbial, and he insists on keeping three mainland concubines to keep up appearances. The villagers hate that, it's a waste of food on mouths that shouldn't even be there – and neither do they want to be! We arrived when I was fifteen, so I didn't really make childhood friends. And my Dad's such a trusting and friendly fellow that they were inclined to hate me on sight."

"I hear you on the tower of quivering muscle thing," Hiccup said, grinning. "but mostly I was just goofing up all the time in every conceivable way. Hey, so did that thing with the well and the lady happen in Freezing-to-Death, then?"

For a moment, Al looked blank, and then his expression cleared and he nodded. "Yeah. No real traders in Sleet after all."

"Whoa, you must have been young," Hiccup choked down the rest of his meal-bread and reached for the water-skin.

"Fourteen," Al shrugged.

"That trader leapt to some pretty crazy conclusions," Hiccup shook his head, uncorking the skin and swigging from it. The water tasted unclean, and he grimaced.

"He was an old man with a young wife," Al grinned. "Crazy conclusions go with the territory."

"Wife," Hiccup repeated, and then sighed mournfully. "Gods, she is going to kill me with a rusty spoon."

"Because you're so obviously enjoying yourself, larking about like this," said Al dryly.

Hiccup pulled the pouch around his neck where he could see it. "Okay, poke fun all you like. I'm guessing you're not married." He touched the circular lock of pale blonde hair with a gentle forefinger.

"I've never been _that_ crazy," Al retorted. "Come on, take your mind off things. Tell me about the dragons."

"Dragons?" Hiccup blinked, looking over to the other man.

"You told us how you met Toothless, but how did you gain his trust? I would have sworn a dragon would kill a human outright and not give them a single chance."

"That's what we were taught," Hiccup said slowly, "but it's not true. After I brought Toothless down with my bola-cannon, I had the chance to kill him. I couldn't, so I set him free. He leapt onto me, and tightened his claws around my neck, and I was sure I was as dead as Baldur. But he just roared in my face and disappeared. Dragons will afford humans the same chances as a human affords them."

Al nodded thoughtfully. "So the weapons thing?"

"Is sort of tied to that," Hiccup conceded. "I know they get around fully armed all the time, but weapons to a dragon mean death, not protection. If you're holding a weapon, the dragon thinks you mean to kill it. Simple as that."

"I get it," Al said with more enthusiasm. "But how did you gain his trust? I mean, you'd shot him out of the sky, and taken off his tail-fin. He must have hated you."

Hiccup didn't move for a long moment, then he began regretfully. "I think he did, at first. He knew it was me, of course, who built that bola-cannon. They've got amazing senses of smell. But I just kept coming back and watching him, letting him see that I meant no harm."

"And that's all?" Al was sceptical.

"Well, no," Hiccup shifted and wished for a window, a light, anything to relieve the gloom. "Eventually I offered him a fish. Just one – I had no idea how much he ate at that point. When he came sniffing at me wanting some more, I told him I didn't have any. And he regurgitated half of the fish back up right there in my lap."

"Gross," opined Al, his nose wrinkling.

"You're telling _me_. And this is the worst bit: I had to _bite_ it." Hiccup shuddered. "It's a sort of getting-to-know-you thing they do. Like a gift. Toothless had obviously forgiven me at that point, though he was still wary. That's sort of what the gift was about. Oh, and since I was so scrawny, maybe he thought I needed feeding up," Hiccup smiled at the memory.

"Wow," Al said, leaning forward onto his elbows, his face fascinated. "Tell me more."

* * *

Astrid hung the fur over the stretched line and beat it with a stout stick.

It made her feel somewhat better.

He'd been away for just over two weeks. Around sixteen days. That wasn't that long, really, and he might be home in another two weeks, and then she could stop feeling like she was going to explode with the news.

The Haddock lodge was huge and drafty and empty without Stoick clomping and bellowing in the lower quarters and Hiccup tinkering constantly at his desk. She missed the way when Stoick fell asleep in front of the hearth downstairs, his snores made the small table beside her bed rattle. She missed Toothless bounding up to her as she brought the water from the village well, causing her to narrowly miss spilling it everywhere and repeating the awful chore. She missed the spats the Night Fury had with Spike. She missed Hiccup.

Frigga and Freya, she missed Hiccup.

Spike had taken to sleeping up in the loft with her, curled into a neat, iridescent ball at the end of their pallet. It helped, but the cold yawning gap on the left side of the bed still drew her attention far too readily. The furs had almost stopped smelling like him. How dare the furs stop smelling like him.

Irritated, she had dragged one outside and thrown it over the line, proceeding to beat it into submission. If anyone asked, she was getting the dust out.

She missed his goofy smile and the way he had of raising his eyebrows when she was being particularly fierce. She missed the warm dry gentleness of his scarred hands, the press of his lips against the side of her head when he awoke first in the mornings (and he always awoke first in the mornings), and the look of still-startled delight when she pushed him against a wall and kissed him senseless. She missed kissing him senseless.

She missed the comforting click-thump of him pottering around their loft, and the mess he left his shelves in, and the absent way he abandoned his dishes in the most unlikely of places. She missed the sound of his humming, the way his tongue poked out of his mouth when he worked on a project, the rhythmic rasp of a saw on wood. She missed him so much she felt like screaming.

Her mother had helped somewhat. Gerda had stayed with Astrid for a night and a day, just to ease the loneliness. Spike was being extra-solicitous, even by possessive Nadder standards.

"Astrid?"

It was Ruffnut, her bow over her shoulder, her usual unimpressed expression tinged with a hint of worry. Astrid whacked the fur one last time, and threw her stick with unerring accuracy into the haypile behind the lodge. "Hi, Ruff."

"You… all right there?" Ruff raised an eyebrow. They'd had their differences before Astrid's marriage – Hiccup's new appearance had elicited a kind of madness in them both – but that was in the past, mostly. Aside from a lingering tension, the two young women were back to being friends of a sort, commiserating over the unique hardships any young Viking woman had to deal with. Ruff was due to marry Fishlegs in a few months time, and she'd taken to asking Astrid about married life.

"Fine," Astrid said shortly, and Spike made a chirping noise of concern.

"Shyeah. You don't look so fine, y'know," Ruff said pointedly. "You're white as a sheet. You need to sit down."

"Sit down," scoffed Astrid. "Ridiculous. I'm perfectly fine, thank you very…oooh." She broke off as the nausea swept over her again.

"Fine?" Ruffnut shook her head. "You are more stubborn than any ten Vikings on this island. Knew I was friends with you for a reason. What's wrong? Are you sick?"

Astrid glared weakly at her.

"What?" Ruff grabbed Astrid's arm and tugged her over to the bench behind the lodge. Spike followed, crooning worriedly. "If you're sick, you need to go see the Elder. Want me to go run?"

"NO! No, I mean…" Astrid sighed and looked down at her hands. "I'm sick, but I think I'm meant to be. At least, that's what all the women always said when we were growing up…"

"So, Astrid, you planning on making any sense today?" Ruff drawled.

She tipped her head back, closing her eyes in the warm spring air. "I think… I think I'm pregnant."

Ruffnut's eyes widened a little, before she let out a breath. "Whoa. So there's like, a tiny Haddock in there?" she prodded a finger at Astrid's belly. Astrid batted her away irritably.

"Stop that, it's not funny. And you make me sound like a fishing basket."

Ruff smirked. "Well, you landed him at the right moment, didn't you? So, you're feeling sick, then?"

Astrid nodded reluctantly. "In the morning and in late afternoon. Sometimes even in the middle of the night! And over the last two days, well, my chest has been _really_ sore. I heard the women gossip while I was growing up, same as you. That's almost all of them."

"Have your courses come?" Ruffnut tipped her head, and Astrid winced, biting her lip.

"No."

Ruffnut nodded. "Then yeah, congrats then, I guess."

"I'm just… he's not _here_, Ruff, and I'm all over the place right now… I need him home. _Now_." Astrid took a deep breath and hardened her jaw. "Did you ever hear anything about how to stop the sick feeling?"

Ruffnut smoothed her skirt and stood. "I am so not the person to be asking this. Look, Astrid, go see the Elder. She'll know something to help you."

Ruffnut then checked that the coast was clear before leaning in to Astrid and asking in an undertone, "you'll tell _me_when it's my turn, won't you?"

Astrid forced a smile. "Sure."

"Awesome, see you later," Ruff shouldered her bow and sauntered off towards the woods.

Astrid sighed and touched a finger to her stomach where Ruffnut had prodded her. A tiny Haddock in there.

"Hey Astrid? Chill, would you? Just think how happy Hiccup's going to be!" Ruff called back.

Astrid waved to her once, and then went to fetch another fur to beat.


	4. Chapter 4

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Thanks so much for all the reviews, guys! I'm so glad you're enjoying this!

* * *

Stoick stared grimly at Berk as it grew closer and closer, his ears full of the creaking of oars and his mind full of fire.

It was rare that he felt useless. Stoick had led the village for over sixteen years, and he had made a point of always being 'the man with the plan'. But now he felt aimless and directionless, even though the longship's bow was pointed unerringly homewards.

Worse still was the rage. It consumed his mind, and he felt if there were just one clue, one glimpse of a target, he would unleash that anger so hotly that Toothless' fireballs would look like a candle in comparison.

Someone had stolen his son.

The thief had been clever, had left barely a trace. Stoick had woken in the Phlock Mead-Hall, his head aching and his mouth feeling full of sand. He vaguely remembered sliding under the table against another man, his thoughts far too disordered to be simply drunk. The headache wasn't the one that always attacked him after a celebratory night, either. That one was almost comforting – it meant he'd had a good night, after all – and familiar, a bunch of dwarves hammering at his skull. The one which had accosted him that morning was different – a howling crew of Valkyries ululating inside his head and stabbing repeatedly in his eyes with their magic spears.

He hadn't noticed that Hiccup was missing for an hour or so. The first hour was spent heaving wretchedly and contemplating getting up from under the table. There had also been some fervent praying as he tried to stop his shrieking head from falling off his shoulders. His helmet felt much, much too small, the metal pressing against his hot forehead as though holding his delicate skull together. He was grateful for that much at least.

He made two failed attempts to stand – one was aborted very quickly, before his stomach turned itself inside out, and the other had been foiled by his head hitting the underside of the table. Which hadn't helped the whole situation at all. He'd had to wait for his vision to clear and his head to stop the incessant pounding before trying again, and it was at that point he realised that he'd been slumped against Upchuck.

Over there was Bogbrush, and there was Oglaranna and Hangnail…

And every single Chieftain, every warrior in the place, was fast asleep. Stoick's eyes narrowed in suspicion as his sluggish brain connected the howling of his head to the snoring of every body in the hall.

Drugged beer…?

Something had happened.

"Wake up!" he shouted, pushing himself up onto shaky legs and leaning heavily on the table. "Wake up! The beer's been drugged, we're undefended! Wake up!"

There was a chorus of hearty groans, and Bogbrush's eye opened a sliver. "Oh, sod off, Stoick, m'head's killin' me."

"Get up," Stoick said grimly. "That beer was drugged, you idiot, an' every warrior in Phlock is in this building."

Upchuck sat bolt upright, his face white with sudden realisation. "Oh, Gods," he said then, and clutched at his head.

"We don't have time to deal wi' your head!" Stoick straightened his helmet on his own pounding head and took off on wobbly legs to the hall doors with their bright tapestries. "I'm goin' to see to the ships. Get someone to see to the granaries an' the livestock – an' make sure each member of each lodge is accounted for!"

"I know how to do my job, Stoick!" Upchuck said angrily, clambering painfully to his feet.

"Then how come I'm havin' to do it for you?" Stoick shot back, and pushed open the doors.

The sun was well and truly up, and the village looked fairly peaceful. Men and women moved about their tasks without any sense of trouble in the air. Stoick looked at them suspiciously as he stomped down the narrower streets towards the wharves, aware of his crumpled bearskin cloak and his bloodshot eyes. He must have looked like one of those barbarian Visigoths.

As he neared the tethered longships, a black shadow dropped from a beam and trotted towards him. Stoick gave the Night Fury an absent pat as he checked over Berk's longship. Everything was in order, so he moved to checking the other villages' crafts. Perplexingly, they were all untouched as well.

Toothless whined a little in the back of his throat, and then gave that hoarse bark of his several times.

"What is the matter with you, you overgrown lizard?" Stoick said in exasperation. The barks cut straight into his poor abused brain.

Toothless tilted his head, and then crouched down as low as his body allowed, his mouth open and his teeth retracted. His eyes flicked up to Stoick, wide and pleading.

"You haven't been fed?" Stoick blinked. This was unlike Hiccup. Even in the midst of his worst depression Hiccup had never forgotten to feed his dragon. He was more likely to feed Toothless than he was himself. It was unthinkable that Hiccup had just… forgotten.

That was when Stoick realised he hadn't seen Hiccup since last night.

Upchuck reported in confusion that no one and nothing was missing from the village. Hangnail reported that the granaries were still locked, and Oglaranna reported that every sheep and scrubby island cow was accounted for.

Stoick, after tearing through every ship in the harbour with growing panic, reported that his son had been stolen.

There was evidence of a large longboat pulling up to the wharves late in the night – a shallow furrow against the dock-walls, a scratch of paint, a bilge-bucket thrown onto the grey sand far from any other boats. Someone had sailed in during the night, and made off with Hiccup, hero of Berk and the first dragon-tamer.

That was when Bogbrush said with mounting worry that young Alberich had also disappeared from his party. Stoick almost lifted the rotund Chief of Sleet clear off the ground at that news.

"Alberich…?" he growled. "You sayin' that one of yours has stolen one of mine, Brushy?"

Bogbrush snorted. "Like wee Al could do that, nothin' doin'! He couldn't win an honest fight if you chopped the other man's hands off. No, I'm thinking they've both been captured, probably for ransom. Al's got no family that I know of, but your Hiccup's a perfect hostage."

Stoick slumped, setting the other Chief back down onto his feet.

Toothless danced anxiously on his forepaws, looking from one face to the next. Stoick moved in a sort of daze to the still-laden feast table, grabbed a haunch of deer and threw it down to the dragon, who sniffed it warily. Then Toothless looked back at Stoick, his scaled face growing slack with draconic shock.

"Huurruuumm?" he said, standing up abruptly, his wings poised to unfurl.

"They took Hiccup," Stoick breathed, fury building in the base of his belly. "They took my son."

"Stoick…" said Hangnail sympathetically, "I'm sorry, really, but it could have been-"

Stoick never got the chance to hear what it could have been as Toothless flung back his head, his black wings fully extended, and the Night Fury screamed, that piercing signature shriek. Generally it was a signal to strike, but this scream was full of rage and shock and loss. Hands were clapped over ears, and furniture was knocked over as Toothless' wings swept through the Mead-Hall.

Just as Stoick saw the dragon's chest inflate and the smallest wisp of green gas escape his mouth, he leapt onto the blunt black head and clamped his jaws shut. "No! You can't do that, no! Don't fire, don't fire, I know, I feel the same, don't you think I don't feel the same? But you'll kill us all, you can't fire in here!"

Toothless struggled against the heavy man, but his struggles grew less forceful as what Stoick said seeped into his grief-stricken mind. Stoick loosened his grip around Toothless' jaws, but continued holding on, as though holding Hiccup's dragon would somehow bring Hiccup back. "I know, I know…" he said through teeth gritted in anger and fear. "We'll get him back. I promise. We'll hunt down that gods-damned ship even if I'm grey by the time we find it. We'll get him back."

Toothless whined in misery, his forehead leaning against Stoick in dejection. His tail with its one fin thumped once.

"We'll get him back," Stoick said once more, and held on, his eyes squeezed shut.

And now he was looking at his home, his village, which contained his daughter-in-law. And he had to tell her that the gangly boy they both loved was gone.

Toothless had sunk into a kind of torpor over the two-week voyage, his usually glossy hide dull, his green eyes blank. He ate the fish Stoick caught for him, and accepted the occasional scratch on the head, but only from his friend's father and no one else. He seemed distant, drifting through the motions of living. He'd never be the once-wild creature he had been, but neither could he be quite happy living in the human world without his boy, it seemed. His father was a poor substitute, and privately Stoick felt the dragon only accepted the kindnesses from him because he was familiar, and smelled a bit like Hiccup.

Stoick wasn't doing much better, what with that gnawing sense of uselessness. The crew of the longship had learned to stay out of his way, as he had become prone to snapping at anyone who annoyed him in the slightest. Feeding and caring for the miserable dragon gave him something to do, but really, it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

As the island drew close, Stoick could see a figure wrapped in a dark coat with a white-fur collar standing alone on the wharves. Astrid. Her hand raised and she waved excitedly, no doubt hoping to see a long, skinny arm waving back. Stoick lifted one hand to her in greeting, before letting it drop.

Her face was beaming as the longship groaned into the wharf, and her eyes darted from face to face, looking for one in particular. Stoick heaved a huge sigh, and put a gentle hand on Toothless' head.

"Better go break the news," he said softly, and Toothless stirred, his eye flickering open. Before he could process it, the Night Fury had bounded off the ship and barrelled directly at Astrid, his heavy body pressing against her and crooning loudly enough to shake his bones loose.

Astrid laughed shortly, her fingers unerringly scratching the spot behind his ear that he loved so much. "Hey Toothless, missed you too. Where's Hiccup, big guy? He behind you?"

"Astrid," said Stoick heavily. "I'm so… I'm so sorry."

Astrid looked up at him, her happy expression beginning to fade. "Stoick…? What's happened? Where's Hiccup?"

Toothless barked twice, before letting out a long mournful howl low in his throat.

"Hiccup… we think…." Stoick faltered, and re-shouldered his bag to give himself time to recover his voice. "We think he was kidnapped. For ransom."

Astrid's face drained of colour.

"The welcoming feast, well…" Stoick had to look away from her eyes. "They drugged the whole convocation. Whoever it was, they took Hiccup and a lad from another village."

"From under your nose," she said in a flat tone.

"Aye," he said, and hung his head.

"Where was Toothless?" she asked, still in that flat tone.

"On our longship. We found traces of a longboat pulling into the wharves in the night. It wasn't his fault! Ours was furthest from where they pulled in."

Astrid's face was still white as white. "So he was unprotected."

"Astrid…" Stoick said pleadingly, but she held up a hand fiercely.

"Save it," she spat, and then pushed Toothless off her. "And you."

Then she clapped a hand over her mouth, and her eyes clenched shut.

"Astrid, it was a friendly village, the demonstration went well, an' they all thought he was a hero after hearin' his tale," Stoick tried again. "No one was expectin' any trouble!"

She just shook her head once, her mouth still covered. Toothless whined mournfully at her, and rubbed his eye-ridge against her feet, before laying his head down before them.

"Astrid, now listen to me!" Stoick tried once more, and desperately hoping to convince the girl, grabbed her shoulders to make her face him. Her eyes snapped open and she looked at him with a dawning horror, before abruptly tearing herself away and leaning over the dock-side, retching violently.

"Astrid…?" Stoick was still with shock, watching his daughter-in-law be miserably sick into the surf-churned waters. The last time he'd seen a woman retch like that, it had been Val.

Almost nineteen years ago.

Stoick stared at her as she slowly pulled herself upright, smoothing down her coat and turning back to him with a wary look in her eye. Stoick opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't you dare say anything," she said weakly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You're not…?" Stoick's knees suddenly buckled, and he leaned heavily against the longship's barnacled side.

"I am," she confirmed grimly. Toothless sniffed at her feet again, before raising huge eyes to meet hers. "You can both stop looking at me like that," she grated, a hint of a sob in her voice.

"We're going to get him back, Astrid," was all Stoick could say. He was going to be a grandfather. A grandfather. And his son was gone and there'd be a new baby, and he was so happy and so angry and so sad he thought he simply might explode.

"Yes, we are," she lifted her chin.

"But Astrid, you can't…" Stoick faltered again in the face of her icy blue stare.

"Oh, and you both did such a good job of looking after him last time, I should leave it up to you?" she snapped. "I'm coming, no matter what stupid state I'm in, I don't care! I'm coming too!"

Stoick just looked at her helplessly, his pregnant daughter-in-law. "Of course," he said eventually.

She nodded sharply, her jaw tight and her eyes glittering with unshed tears. "Good."

Then she picked up her skirts, and walked away with her back ramrod-straight. Stoick pretended he couldn't hear her stifled sobs, out of respect.

* * *

Gods it was boring to be stuck in a hole with only one person to talk to.

Hiccup had long since run out of things to talk about. Al seemed to understand, and for the last few days they had sat in almost silence, listening to the rocking of the boat.

He missed Toothless, and hoped the dragon hadn't done anything drastic when he realised Hiccup was gone. He missed his dad and Gobber and his friends and Berk and even Snotlout.

He was purposely trying not to think about Astrid at all, though his fingers unconsciously travelled to his throat at least twice an hour. Thinking about her simply hurt far too much.

Al liked to hear about the dragons quite a lot. His guileless face would light up whenever Hiccup mentioned a new fact about them – how to train them, how to feed them, how to care for them, anything. He was less interested in Hiccup's homesickness, and retreated into a troubled ball every time Hiccup began to moan about it. Hiccup supposed that he had his own homesickness to deal with, though his life in Sleet hadn't sounded like much fun.

Hiccup missed baths. He estimated that he'd missed two wash-days sitting in this dank little cabin, and he was definitely on the ripe side. So was Al. In fact, the whole tiny room had that certain unwashed scent to it. Hiccup had done his best with a ripped piece of his tunic and the remnants of one night's water skin, but it had simply pushed the dirt around. Coupled with the smell of the waste bucket sitting beside one of the bales, and the air in the place was so thick you could probably chew it. Not that anyone would want to, Hiccup shuddered.

He itched abominably. He was sure that the hairy fellow who threw food at them each night had given them lice. His beard had grown in, and he was desperate to shave the stupid thing off just to stop the infernal itching. His leg ached constantly in the cold, damp, salty air, and he'd taken to leaving the leather sock off it during the day to stop the scars from softening in the humidity. Al had stared a bit at first, at the clear toothmarks under his knee and the huge ridges of scar tissue under the stump, but Hiccup had ignored the stare and kept talking. Now Al seemed just as inured to it as Astrid was.

Shouldn't think about Astrid… His furry jaw tightened and he scratched absently at his neck. Stupid lice.

There was a sudden crunch and tear of splintering wood. Hiccup was jolted backwards by an unseen impact.

"What was that?" Hiccup whispered, his eyes seeking out Al's in the gloom.

Al's face was calculating, his eyes narrowed. "Sounded like a ram…"

"The ship's been rammed?" Hiccup asked in surprise. It couldn't be the Berkians, then – their largest longship had no ram at the front, only the carved dragonhead.

"Maybe," said Al, listening intently. "Or maybe grappled and boarded by another ship. We certainly haven't crashed, we'd have been thrown all over the place if we had."

"Do you think we're being rescued?" Hiccup said hopefully, and Al blew a breath between his teeth.

"Shut up, I can't hear," he hissed back, and Hiccup raised an eyebrow at him as Al rolled his eyes in concession. "Fine, we might be being rescued, that better?"

"Fills me with joy," Hiccup retorted, and leaned back against the cabin wall.

There were muffled shouts and the sounds of steel on steel coming faintly through the wood, and Hiccup pressed his ear against it, hoping to catch some details. So far, all he could tell was that there was a fight going on. Not particularly helpful.

"Someone's coming!" Al said suddenly, and sure enough heavy running feet could be heard in the galley outside the cabin. The bolt clicked and rattled, and the door swung open to reveal their immensely hairy 'host'. "You," he grunted, pointing a large sword at them, "you come with me."

"Ah, fresh out of left feet," drawled Hiccup, pulling on the leather sock.

The man thought about this for a moment, and then grunted again. Drawing out a large key, he fitted it to Hiccup's chains and undid them, before hoisting the skinny young man over his brawny shoulder. "Right," he mumbled, "hostage…"

Al's eyes were wide with –what? Anger? Fright? Hiccup met them with his own as the ambulatory shrub began to carry him from the room. He swallowed, and wished he knew where his hammer was.

That thought hung in his head for a moment, before Hiccup blinked with realisation. As the man carted him through the door, he grabbed one of the large bale-hooks with his still-bound hands, and neatly rapped him over the head.

As always, he was accurate with a tool.

The hairy fellow went down like a sack of meal. Hiccup winced as the heavy body landed over his legs, and he scrambled up as best he could, bracing himself against the doorjamb. Then he bent over and began to rummage in the man's pockets.

"Whoa," Al said shakily, then he added in a high tone, "are you crazy?"

"Probably," Hiccup grinned fiercely. "You want out, don't you?"

"Of course, but you just…" Al said shrilly, and Hiccup pulled out the bunch of keys with satisfaction.

"Look, I need you to be my other leg," he said briskly as he set to work on his shackles. "Just until we can find mine. And my hammer."

"What the Hel do you think you're doing?" Al blurted. The shackles fell away with a clatter, and Hiccup rubbed his wrists gratefully, before crawling awkwardly over to Al and starting on his bonds.

"I don't know about you, but if I don't have a bath soon I'm going to either scratch my skin off or spontaneously combust," Hiccup said bluntly. "Come on."

Al shook off his chains, and helped Hiccup stand. His hands were shaking a little. "Okay, so which way, genius?" he snapped, rude in his anxiety.

Hiccup thought hard. "Well, if the layout of this tub is anything like normal, there should be another room towards the bow. Bet my things are there."

"The bow? You mean the bow that might have a ram stuck into it?" puffed Al as he shouldered more of Hiccup's weight in order to bend and grab the hairy pirate's sword. Then he began to hop him out of the cabin.

"That wasn't a ram," said Hiccup decisively. "The ship would have started to tilt."

"Hmmph," Al grunted, and they made their awkward way along the dark galley. Shouts and the ring of steel against steel echoed above them.

"Door's locked," Al hissed, testing the handle, and Hiccup fumbled with the bunch of keys.

"Here," he muttered, "get back."

He tried several keys before finding the right fit, and the door opened with a querulous creak. "Ah!" Hiccup breathed in satisfaction, seeing his foot and his hammer sitting innocently on a small table. Hopping over, he leaned against the edge and pulled the prosthetic on with a sense of relief. "Thank Odin and both his ravens," he sighed, putting the foot down on the wooden floor.

Al was watching him with bemusement, but his face quickly grew wary. "Quickly," he growled, and looked back into the galley. "Someone might come!"

Hiccup picked up his hammer, feeling a bit braver now it was in his hand. "Okay, okay!" he snapped back in an undertone, and stalked past Al back out into the galley.

"Wait…" said Al, suddenly, and scurried into the room for a moment. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"He wants to go, he doesn't want to go…" he grumbled.

Al emerged looking a bit shifty, surreptitiously putting something into his jerkin. "Okay, let's go," he whispered, and Hiccup gave him a questioning look. "No time now, let's just get going!" Al shoved Hiccup forward a little, and he held up his hands in acquiescence.

"Keep your shirt on," he muttered, and led the way towards the ladder up to the deck.

"Are you sure we should go up there?" Al said in a tight voice.

"You want to get out, don't you?" Hiccup snipped back, but there was a sick, fluttery feeling in his stomach and he knew why Al was so tense. He raised his metal foot, and stepped carefully on to the lowest rung.

The trap above the ladder swung open abruptly, and Hiccup shrank back nervously, eyes stinging in the sudden sunlight. "Here!" someone roared, and Hiccup stifled a gasp as great hoary hands reached down and grasped his upper arms, hauling him into the blindingly bright day.

"What…?" he began, blinking furiously, holding his hammer warily.

A brightly coloured blur began to resolve itself into a man with close-cropped blond hair and beard, and a scruffy jerkin. A lopsided, snaggle-toothed grin greeted him as the man folded sunburnt arms at Hiccup's defensive pose.

"Steady there, oh mighty warrior," he chuckled in a gravely voice.

"Who are you?" Hiccup demanded, lifting his hammer higher. Other shapes were becoming people, men holding others down, or holding others at weapons-point. Hiccup's eyes slid away from blurry shapes on the deck that were starting to look sickeningly like limbs.

"Sorry, lad, sorry," the man gave his crook-mouthed grin again. "Name's Regin. You can put that down, we're here to rescue you."

Hiccup's eyebrows knitted. "I've never seen you before in my life," he said flatly.

"No. But they've seen me," Al said triumphantly from his perch at the top of the ladder. He quirked a brow at Hiccup, his filthy face smug. "Told you I had a shipment in these waters, didn't I?"

* * *

_Goodness me, what now? What do you think? Let me know!_


	5. Chapter 5

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Thanks so much for your reviews, guys! I love to hear what people think of the story and my writing.

* * *

The woman ran her stone along the edge of her double-bladed war-axe.

She was the only woman in these stables. The pampered people who had enslaved her didn't, _couldn't_ believe that a woman could fight and fight well. Their women were soft, scheming things, rounded bodies and matronly curves hiding minds like steel snares. They wrapped women in soft flowing gowns and adorned them with diadems and baubles. In this world, a woman's weapons were words and poison and children who survived.

She had come as something of a shock to their arrogant, smugly superior view of the so-called 'weaker sex'. They eventually dismissed her as an oddity, a sport of nature made possible only because she was, to them, a 'barbarian'. She found them to be the barbaric ones. After enslaving her and taking her far from her people, they had tried to put her to work as a house-servant, then as a guard. She had no qualms about trying to escape, and even fewer regarding the damage she had to cause in order to do so. And so they had resorted to caging her here, in these human stables, surrounded by men of all races and colours and sizes, doomed to kill each other for the sport of those pampered soft things in white linens and gauzy cloths.

Even those men had thought her to be a soft target – the only woman in the stables. She had quickly disabused them of that notion. Some of them had been Northmen and some Celts, who really should have known better. Though she hadn't retained the quickness of her youth, she was still immensely strong. It had taken eighteen broken bones and a cracked rib before the men began to look upon her as a formidable foe in her own right, as well as another comrade-in-slavery. Sometimes the new ones thought to challenge her, but they were soon dealt with.

She had killed hundreds of her fellow comrades-in-slavery out in that sandy circle of death, and innumerable beasts, many she had never seen before. She regretted killing the spotted cat. It had been terrified and starved, its yellow eyes wild and its jaws flecked with the foam of true panic. She had sensed that the beast would have fled if it could, hidden in some dark place and licked its wounds back to health, but alas, none of them had the luxury of such a choice here.

She had lost track of the years she had been imprisoned in the barracks. In her mind, her family had been frozen in time. Her child was still a sweet toddling thing, her loving husband still a young, laughing man. Though she had a large white streak in her hair, and her polished breastplate revealed lines around her eyes, she was still a young mother behind them. She knew that life beyond the stable walls had moved on – but acknowledging it hurt far, far worse than any cut or burn gained in the ring. She knew her baby was now grown. She knew her husband had probably remarried. She knew. But she couldn't bear to think it true.

Her goal was growing ever closer. She had won every fight she had been entered into. She had killed every beast. She was a favourite with the smooth-palmed crowds, and she made her master a great deal of money with her winnings. Soon she would be close to having the sum needed to buy her freedom.

And then, home, home where the wind blew freezing cold and clean, and the water came from a well or a stream, not an aqueduct or fountain, and she could race along the cliff edges and never be held against her will ever again. She would never have to kill at another's say so, and she would be able to set up her still and brew her mother's mead. And she would look upon her child's grown face, and feel her husband's arms around her, his thick forearms squeezing her shoulders tight, as they used to.

Sometimes she dreamed of the cries of the gulls.

* * *

She'd cried, of course. She spent some time curled in their bed, the furs pulled around her tightly, hunched into a ball. The tears had run silently down her face as she gritted her teeth closed. Stoick would not hear her cry. Nor would Toothless. Spike leaned her vicious-looking head on the end of the pallet, her large eyes worried, whickering and chirping sympathetically.

The nausea was getting worse. She hadn't been able to stay there, though she sometimes wished she could just sink into the furs and never wake. It had forced her in search of stale bread, and then in search of water, and then in search of a bucket, all within the space of an hour.

She didn't know how she felt about it yet. Her tiny Haddock. Mostly she simply felt confused, and miserable. She knew that Hiccup himself would have been ecstatic, but her own feelings were so mixed up with the loss of him that she couldn't think straight. There was nervousness, and terror, and raging fury, and crippling sorrow.

Eventually the nausea pushed her out of the house altogether. Stoick was out organising the search party, and she was grateful for that. Every time she had been forced down the stairs to meet his gaze, she had had to flee. His eyes were haunted in a way she couldn't handle.

She supposed he felt much the same way about hers.

She ended up at the smithy. The memories were suffocating, but she sat down on his chair and traced the abandoned tongs lying on his bench. She lost track of time, sitting there and touching the tools of his trade, her eyes glassy as she put her hand over the grip of his hammer.

"Astrid?"

Gobber was at the door of the smithy, his hard-jawed face soft with sympathy and with his own sorrow. Astrid's head whipped around, and she swallowed before pulling on her public face.

"Hi, Gobber," she managed an approximation of her normal tone. His raised eyebrow told her she wasn't fooling anyone.

"We're leaving in two days," he said gruffly, making his clacking way over to her and placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "You might want to get packin'."

"I'm packed," she said defiantly. She'd been packed since the night Stoick had arrived home, three days ago.

"Good," Gobber nodded vaguely, his hand patting her shoulder. "Good, good."

"So who else is coming?" Astrid stood abruptly, not wanting any more of his comfort.

"You, me, Toothless, Stoick, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Hensteeth, Spitelout, Fishlegs, Phlegma and Snotlout," Gobber followed her with worried eyes. "You thinkin' about bringing Spike? Only Stoick thinks feeding more than one dragon on this trip will be a mite tricky."

She quailed internally at the thought of leaving her friend, her confidante. "Maybe Toothless should get left behind," she growled, pushing her fringe back under her headscarf roughly.

"Now, you know better than that," Gobber said firmly. "Maybe you're angry an' sad, but no need to take it out on the dragon. He's feelin' just as bad as you, y'know."

She did know. Stoick was feeding Toothless, because she couldn't bear to look at the beast, at his flat, deadened green eyes so like Hiccup's own. The Night Fury wasn't sleeping, wasn't finishing his fish, wasn't clambering all over the lodge or annoying Spike in any way. He'd spent most of his time with his face against his saddle, lying still and silent. It was unnatural.

Sometimes she heard a mournful crooning in the night.

She walked as purposefully as she could towards the smithy door, her chin held high. Turning at the last possible second, she muttered, "I know," back at Gobber, before ducking outside. The familiar smells of soot and iron clung to her clothes, and she tried to shake the tears gathering again.

Stupid hormones.

* * *

Regin's sailors were a pretty rough bunch. Hiccup had learned quickly to stay out of the way. He did a lot of sitting in the stern, his fingers tight around the felt pouch and his expression pensive.

It had come as a complete shock when Regin insisted on sinking the pirate longship. "But-" Hiccup protested, looking over at the damaged thing. He could care less about the pirate's booty and property, but drowning them simply for the sake of convenience seemed on the ridiculously harsh side.

"Look, boy," Regin spat over the side of his longship and then prodded Hiccup's chest with a gnarled, weathered finger. "Only sensible thing to do. They'll follow, otherwise, and then where will we be? We'll be leadin' a pirate vessel straight to R- to your village, hmm? You want that?"

Al pulled Hiccup's arm and whispered hurriedly in Hiccup's ear. "He's right, Hiccup, it's only prudent. We've got to make sure these scum," he glanced with amused disdain at the pirates, bound to the mast and rails of their gutted ship, "don't ever think they can get the better of us, ever again."

Hiccup still felt like protesting. "Can we leave them their longboat? They can't follow us in that," he pointed out. Alberich sighed, his eyes turning heavenwards.

"Njord protect idiots at sea," he muttered. "Fine. On your head though, if these come back to haunt us. You're a bad influence on me, you know that?"

And so the pirate ship was torched to the sea-line, and the surviving pirate crew crammed into the longboat that had stolen them from Phlock in the first place. They had a barrel of fresh water and a barrel of salt pork, so Hiccup supposed they'd be able to get to one of the islands in the archipelago before starving. It was better than killing them all.

Before the ship was put to the fire, Regin's swarthy crew had insisted on looting it for all it was worth. Al had folded his arms in satisfaction, watching them strip it bare, but had checked his expression when he noticed Hiccup looking at him in horrified surprise. "What?" he said crossly.

Hiccup chose not to answer. Al had obviously hired the roughest, cheapest crew around, the best a poor merchant could afford. It wasn't his fault that they were resorting to such tactics, and no doubt he wanted revenge for those two weeks in the gloom with only lice and meal-bread and Hiccup for company. Hiccup couldn't really blame him.

The minute the merchantman pulled away from the burning pirate vessel, Hiccup had stalked to the stern, grabbed a water barrel and dumped the whole thing over his head.

Alberich had immediately promised that they would take him straight back to Berk. "So, need a lift?" he'd joked, and the relief Hiccup felt had almost bowled him over. He and Al got a bit drunk that evening, watching the shifting stars and lying on the deck, enjoying the brisk, salt-tinged air. Neither of them wanted to go below for the night. Hiccup privately felt that he could sleep out of doors for the rest of his days and be perfectly content with it, even in the dead of winter.

"You looking forward to getting back home?" Al leaned up on one elbow and looked at Hiccup, his face flushed with ale and good humour.

"Am I ever," Hiccup said, grinning ear to ear at the twinkling sky.

"Looking forward to seeing that woman of yours, I'll bet," Al smirked, and lay back down, arms folding beneath his head.

Hiccup didn't answer, but just kept grinning up at the stars.

After two weeks on board a new ship, surrounded by extremely burly and surly men, the elation of rescue had well and truly worn off. Alberich seemed to be avoiding him. Hiccup grew a little sulky at first, and as the days turned, he began to grow suspicious.

After a whole month since the rescue from the pirate ship, Hiccup still wasn't recognising anything. They had sailed along a long coast which Al insisted was Denmark, but the trees didn't look terribly familiar, and neither did the cattle that grazed placidly on the clifftops. And Hiccup hadn't seen a fjord in days. Surely there would have been fjords.

Another thing – Hiccup knew it was turning into summer, but even so this was the hottest summer he'd ever experienced. The days were growing longer and far, far hotter, and Hiccup had taken to leaving his tunic off entirely. His skin had initially burned painfully and embarrassingly red, the scars across his chest, arm and face fading even further under the ensuing onslaught of freckles. There was a shadow under the high carven end of the stern, and he spent most of his time there, fanning himself pensively and trying to keep cool.

There were simply too many things that weren't adding up. Alberich had said he was a poor trader. But even allowing for what the sailors had taken from the pirate ship before it sank, there was an absolute fortune in the hold. Furs and foodstuffs and spices from strange places, even golden ceremonial cups and funeral masks. Some of the assorted treasures were in styles completely unfamiliar to Hiccup, and he had spent some time trying to figure out the purpose of a particular device with silver panelling, only to conclude that someone somewhere was completely incompetent.

For a ship that was supposed to be carrying sheepskins and leatherwork, there was precious little on board.

The longship hadn't pulled into any ports to reprovision at all. The diet was repetitive, far better than meal-bread, but nothing to get excited about. A cured herring and grain stew was served up by a grossly fat cook with a twisted scar curling around his face and bisecting one eye. Hiccup had heard stories about ship-sickness, same as any Viking, and so he periodically gnawed some of the native turnips he hated. It was even worse raw. Better was the preserved cabbage, though the saltiness made him thirsty.

Eventually he decided to get a straight answer out of Al, before the taste of rutabaga drove him crazy. He carefully made his way down the ladder to the galley, sending a dark glance at the full treasure hold as he did. There were simply too many things that needed explanation.

"Al?" he knocked on the cabin door, "hey, Al?"

There was no one there. Al must have been supervising something or other, he seemed to do that quite a bit. He was very obvious in his enjoyment of the power, his broad, honest face lighting up in glee as he directed the gruff sailors to do his bidding with a sort of imperious attitude that grated on Hiccup's nerves.

Hiccup started to shrug and turn back, intending to resume his post at the stern and daydream about flying, when a flutter of sailcloth caught his eye.

Held down by a heavy carved box, a map drawn inexpertly on a piece of sail was sitting demurely on the table bolted to the cabin floor. Hiccup frowned. Maybe he could get the answer he wanted without bothering Al.

He pulled it from under the little chest and studied it briefly. What he saw made his heart stop for a second, and his breath catch in his teeth.

There was a course plotted on the map, but it wasn't one back to the northlands. Near the familiar islands of his archipelago, the line was interrupted by a large blob, and Hiccup realised with ice sliding down his spine, that it marked the place where he had transferred ship.

The line continued, first west, then south, along the coast of Gaul and then into regions unfamiliar to Hiccup. It made its way through a narrow channel into a large body of water, and finished with a flourish on the side of a huge peninsula sticking into that giant enclosed sea.

He wasn't going home.

He was going to that peninsula.

"Odin's beard and balls," Hiccup breathed, reeling with shock. His hands dropped the map nervelessly, and he slid a little on his metal foot, his mind blank and his body suddenly numb. He landed heavily against the cabin wall, but he barely noticed the sting against his shoulder, staring at that line sealing his fate.

"So you figured it out, then," said a voice from the doorway, and Hiccup's head flew up wildly.

Alberich was leaning against the frame, his arms crossed and a sneer pasted across his guileless face. "Took you long enough," he added.

"What did you _do_? Why are we going south?" Hiccup demanded, but his voice lacked any bite. That sneer didn't sit right on Al's face, it looked all wrong. It made him look older, and harder, practically like a different person.

"Because," Al said shortly and strode into the cabin, whipping the map off the table and rolling it up with efficient, jerky movements.

"Because why? You selling your sheepskins there?" Hiccup said with hysterical sarcasm, and Al laughed sourly.

"Oh come on. You've figured out that much, I hope. At least, I thought you had," Al squinted at Hiccup and tapped the rolled sailcloth against his free hand. "At this rate, I'm going to have to revise my opinion of your intelligence."

"It's another pirate ship," Hiccup whispered, eyes widening in horror, and Al gave him a slow clap.

"Genius," Al mocked him. "What else have you deduced, oh great sage?"

Hiccup flushed with anger. "You bastard," he hissed. "You were my friend – I trusted you!"

"Well, consider this a lesson, _friend to friend_," Al's mouth curled into a vicious grin. "Nobody, and I mean _nobody_, gets through life for free. Also, you shouldn't trust just anyone you meet. Why, you could come afoul of any lying rogue."

"You… was _any_ of all that true?" Hiccup shouted, his fists balling. His hammer was up by the stern, but at that moment he felt he could probably pound Al's face in with his bare fists. He'd never been so angry.

Al seemed blissfully unconcerned at Hiccup's anger, and whistled lazily to two sailors - _pirates_ - who had been stowing ropes in the galley. "Nope."

Hiccup thought he had been angry before – now he was speechless with fury.

Al bowed. "Alvin the Treacherous, at your service," he said in an unctuous, oily tone. Then he smirked. "Well, not at_your_ service, I suppose."

"You…!" Hiccup rushed at him, his blood pounding and his hands outstretched, but the two pirates pushed through the door and restrained the skinny young man easily. They held his arms painfully behind his back, and though Hiccup struggled and kicked, in was in vain. They were simply too strong.

"I don't have a shipment of sheepskins and leathers. I don't come from Sleet, or even Freezing-To-Death. I only set foot in Sleet three months ago," Al - _Alvin_ - seemed to be enjoying himself, watching Hiccup strain and thrash against the two pirates' iron grip. "I don't give a damn for the dragon peace, and my father has been dead for four years. I made sure of that," he added darkly, and grinned even harder at the way Hiccup's face drained of all colour.

"Oh, and being the village screw-up? Was that all lies too?" Hiccup spat, though he knew the show of defiance was useless.

Alvin's expression froze, and then grew set. "You should have stayed dumb, Hiccup," he said in a falsely sweet tone. "It would have been more comfortable for you. Now you get to spend some more time chained to the floor. At least this time I don't have to join you."

"You set the whole thing up!" Hiccup gasped, another thrill of icy shock running down his spine. The aftermath left him hanging limply in the men's filthy arms.

"And he gets there at last!" Alvin spread his arms like a showman. "Ladies and gents, if this is what passes for a genius these days, I despair for Vikingdom. Or I would, if I cared about it."

"Why?" Hiccup croaked, and his eyes met Alvin's. They had seemed so friendly, so cheerful. "Why do this? Why me?"

"Money," said Alvin curtly. "What else? I got what I needed out of you – the knowledge of how to tame those flying lizards. Thanks for that, it'll come in right handy."

"What are you going to do to the dragons!" Hiccup's ire reignited, and he pulled against the hands that held him.

"Me?" Alvin sniggered. "Nothing. Not a thing. The Romans of course, might feel differently."

"Romans?" Hiccup's mind was spinning. He felt sick. He felt so, so stupid.

"Romans," confirmed Alvin with mock-solemnity. "That knowledge is worth battalions. I'll get citizenship, maybe even a title. Old Claudius is a dodderer, but that stepson of his knows a thing or two, and his mother's a shrewd woman. I should do quite well out of this."

Hiccup's eyes narrowed. "You already have, though, haven't you? When you ducked into that cabin, you stole the money you paid the first ship, didn't you? _And_ you got all their plunder into the bargain."

Alvin shrugged, his eyes glittering. "Just the first returns. Of course, that leaves the matter of _you_."

Hiccup shrank, though his eyes still blazed defiance at his one-time friend.

"It would have been better if you hadn't gone snooping," Alvin sighed, and there was a real touch of regret in that deceitfully honest-looking face. "Take him away, boys."

"What…? What's going to happen to me?" Hiccup yelled as the men dragged him past the traitorous conman down to the cabin at the stern.

"Well, I wouldn't make any long-term plans, if I were you," Alvin called back mockingly. "Your master might have something to say about that."

"My what…?"

"Hiccup, my dear idiot, the Romans are famous for their legions, their politics, and their slave-trade. Guess which one you need to worry about?"

* * *

_(Soooo, sorry Foxy's Girl, I hope you hadn't ordered that T-Shirt?)_

_See that link? That one that says 'Review This Chapter'? You wanna _do_ things to it. _


	6. Chapter 6

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Thank you everyone, for your wonderful kind words! **The Incredible Puba: **Oh, please don't freak out, there's plenty to go yet! **Necro-wulf, Ze Great Camicazi, xv323, PercabethFax97 & OmarBarria: **Thank you so much, guys! **Foxy's Girl: **I shall mend your poor shattered heart with the writing of another lemon later in this fic, promise! **Leon Woon: **Heh, ain't I a stinker? And thanks for the wonderful compliments on the twist *blushy blush* **Crouchbk:** Ah, another Roman history student! Absolutely right, gold star! **Voldyne: **Some sort of book/fictional world-entering-device is required, mayhaps. And _then_ we punch Alvin in the face.

For reference, this story is set approximately 500-600 years before the _true _age of Viking exploration (so we can have our bread and circuses in Rome). The year I have chosen is 50AD. (Spot on, **crouchbk**!)

Boy, I did _mountains _of research for this thing...

* * *

Preserved cabbage was _the best_.

Astrid had rediscovered her appetite after a week on board Berk's fastest longship. Strangely though, the things which had always been her favourites barely interested her now. Some of them even provoked the nausea again. But preserved cabbage, usually eaten grudgingly to save off the sailing-sickness, had proven to be the most delicious thing in the world. Especially with cured herring. Five weeks into the voyage south, Tuffnut watched her in aghast amazement as she devoured the lot in a trice and stood to serve herself up some more.

"Whoa, Astrid, that is _gross_," he said, his agile face twisting in disgust. Snotlout had gone a violent shade of green.

"What?" she said defensively, her mouth full. "It's good! You should try it!"

"I think what Tuff is saying is that salt herring and preserved cabbage is more salt than anyone on a sea-voyage should technically need," said Fishlegs hesitantly. Astrid scowled.

"Well, it _is_ good," she said haughtily, and stalked off to the prow to finish her meal.

Ruffnut came and sat with her after a few moments. "Actually, Astrid, it _is_ gross," she said conversationally. "I guess this is a tiny Haddock thing?"

Astrid huffed through a mouthful of deliciously salty fish. "I guess. Just happy to be able to eat again."

"I'd say you're making up for lost time," Ruff said dryly. "Are you going to tell the others?"

"No!" Astrid growled. "No way. Not… not yet, anyway. I don't need anyone treating me any differently, and I'm still perfectly capable of doing…"

"Hey, hey," Ruffnut held up her hands in a defensive gesture. "No one's gonna think you're not, y'know, _Astrid_. Just that your passenger there might force a few decisions on you, and people might want to know what they are."

"Ruff," Astrid rounded on her furiously. "Just because I'm… you know, doesn't mean any of my decisions are going to change!"

"You say that now," Ruffnut drawled sceptically. "You're not showing yet, or anything. What about when you can feel it move? Also, you have cabbage on your face."

Astid wiped at her face roughly. "It won't…" But, she thought, it would, wouldn't it? If she could feel the tiny Haddock move, it'd be real. A person. Her baby. She sighed.

"I don't know," she finally said. "I don't know."

"Gonna start showing soon, Astrid," Ruff stood, brushing off her skirt. "Gotta make a decision."

"How come you're here lecturing me?" Astrid flared, and Ruff shrugged one shoulder languidly.

"So, I'm like your _friend_ now, Astrid?" Ruff said in a disinterested way, her head tipping. "I'm looking out for you."

Asrid watched the tall blonde girl walk back to the group of young adults seated in the middle of the longship. She groaned aloud and her head fell into her hands, her empty plate falling onto the deck with a clatter. Her stomach growled.

"Oh no," she muttered. "No way. I just fed you. Twice!"

And now she was speaking to herself. Wonderful.

The tiny Haddock was growing bigger in her mind every day. Now that they were on the move, she had lost most of her melancholy. She didn't do well with inaction. She was physically scouring the sea for traces of her gorgeous, wayward, _idiot_ husband who had gotten himself stolen. The very pro-activeness of this was comforting. Unfortunately, this had given her even more time to dwell on the other matter preying on her mind, and now the words 'TINY HADDOCK' were written across her mind's eye in runes of fire fifty feet high.

It was infuriating.

And terrifying.

She couldn't be a mother. She wasn't ready. She'd just gotten used to being a wife, only three months of it. She'd thought she would have far longer with just Hiccup and herself to contend with. Infants scared her, their tiny, fragile little bodies and red, open screaming mouths. Her own mother had struggled every day of their lives, and she was the strongest woman she had ever known. Her hands were roughened by a battle-axe, not a scrubbing board. She could barely _sew_.

She didn't want to go through this without Hiccup.

She'd never prayed so fervently to Frigga before. The great fertility goddess had certainly been generous at precisely the wrong time, but in her fear and anxiety, Astrid thought that praying to the Mother of all mothers was probably the smart move.

She needed him back with her. This wasn't an enemy she could beat with fists. This was a piece of him and her that was slowly taking over her body. And she was scared, scared, scared.

His gentle, humorous ways of calming her down – she needed them so badly she ached. His silly grin and his biting wit. He would be a good daddy. And that would ease some of her worry. At least the kid would have a parent who wasn't totally ill-suited to the job.

Her eyes focused on the immobile shape of the Night Fury, seated behind her in the prow. His eyes scanned the horizon constantly and she hadn't seen him close them yet, not in the whole five weeks of sailing. He didn't even stop his vigil whilst eating, and Stoick had to lean past the carven figurehead in order to put fish into the dragon's mouth. The Chief was growing increasingly surly about the whole business.

Stoick. She had begun to speak to him again, if only because the confines of the ship were not all that large, and it was impossible to avoid him forever. He was huge and grim and forbidding most of the time, and his eyes only softened when they landed on her. She knew what _that_ was about. Make that runes of fire _sixty_ feet high.

Still, he was one of two people on the boat who knew about the tiny Haddock, and that gave her some relief. It meant she wasn't totally alone in the knowledge.

It seemed to ease him out of the black mood he had sunk into. Stoick had always been a stern and exact leader, but he was carven in granite now, a stone as immobile as the graven fire-beacons in their harbour. If the thought of her little passenger gave him any comfort, she was fine with that. Besides, it meant there was at least one person who thought her new eating habits were wonderful.

She hadn't tried to connect with Toothless yet. In a vague way, she resented that the Night Fury had not protected Hiccup in Phlock. She knew intellectually that he had been told to go back down to the ship to avoid freaking out the convocation members – but the dragon had been able to hear Hiccup in trouble all the way from the dragon-ring to the cove. Even if Hiccup had been drugged, he should have been there, Astrid told herself stubbornly, her eyes trailing back to the second figurehead of the longship.

She sighed. If he'd been drugged, he wouldn't have cried out. Toothless couldn't have known.

It didn't stop the feeling that he _should_ have, however.

She stood and walked over to the dragon. His ear twitched, indicating that he knew she was there, but he didn't stop looking at the horizon.

"Toothless, I'm sorry," she began, and a snort through draconic nostrils answered her.

"I am," she insisted. "I shouldn't have… look, I shouldn't blame you, okay? I know that. I just… I couldn't help it. _Can't_help it. I'm trying. But I'm a bit mixed up right now, and the only thing that could sort it all out is having him back," she finished, and that uncharacteristic lump was back in her throat. Gods, she was going to be ecstatic when her emotions were her own again.

Toothless huuuruuumh'd in scorn, and then sniffed haughtily. She shook her head. She _had_ tried.

And then the dragon snapped his head around to face her, his pupils wide as plates.

"What?" she said quickly, pushing past him. He must have seen something, to take his gaze off the horizon like that. "What is it? Where?"

Toothless simply sniffed again, deeper this time, and then snuffled gently along her armoured shoulders. "Me?" she said in surprise, and then, "Oh."

Make that _seventy_ feet high.

"Yes," she said quietly and shortly. "That's right. I smell different because I'm pregnant. I'm having…" she couldn't finish.

Toothless whined high in his throat, and pushed his snout against her body once, very, very gently. Her hand extended shakily, before settling on the dull black scales.

"Right there," she whispered. "Right where he left it."

She rubbed the scales softly. "No one's given you a rub down in weeks," she noted clinically. "I'll get to that tomorrow. You should sleep."

Toothless growled, barking twice and finishing on a whuffling noise, looking back to the sea. Astrid rolled her eyes.

"You haven't slept in five weeks. I know dragons can go for ages without, but that's just ridiculous. What if we need to fight when we find him? You'll be too exhausted to move. Sleep. Right where you are. I'll keep watch."

Toothless gave her a doubtful look, but curled himself into a ball anyway, his wings unfurling and furling around his usually glossy body. She sat down by the figurehead pointedly.

"See? Keeping watch."

Toothless extended a forepaw to her, tilting his head and emitting a purling rumble ending with a questioning bark. She folded her arms.

"I'll be fine, the tiny Haddock will be fine," she said crossly. "I'm not getting much sleep anyway thanks to the little intruder. So lie down and sleep. I'll rub you down in the morning."

He was asleep before his head hit the deck.

"Thought he'd never move from that spot," said a voice behind her, and Astrid whipped her head around to see Stoick leaning on some rigging. His eyes were ringed with dark shadows, and he looked ten years older.

"I gave him a reason," she said shortly, and turned her face back to the dark sea.

Stoick paused, then moved to stand beside her. "We're due west of Phlock by two weeks," he said quietly. "An' maybe a week or two south. The longboat was drawn up on the western shore of the island."

"With a whole five week's head start," she said bitterly, and he grunted.

"Aye, but look at the bright side."

"What's that?" she asked brokenly.

"They can't go very fast in a longboat."

She snorted, and then laughed aloud. "No, I suppose they can't."

It was the first time she'd laughed since Stoick came home.

* * *

The next week moved very, very slowly.

Astrid wondered why they called it 'becalmed'. It was the noisiest experience she'd been through in ages. The sails clapped loudly and the beams of the longship creaked constantly.

The oars had been broken out, but they didn't have a full contingent of rowers. Progress was haltingly, painfully slow.

It was a glorious day when they finally dropped anchor by a tiny islet with a single grubby grey beach to make camp. Six weeks was enough for everyone on board to be thoroughly sick of sea travel, and simply standing on a surface that didn't pitch and toss was a relief to all. Astrid built a fire efficiently (her camp-skills had always been exemplary) and Phlegma and Fishlegs started hovering over the large stew-pot. Further away, Ruff and Tuff could be heard bickering as they coiled rope and furled sails.

Stoick and Toothless were still watching the oceans. Toothless had relaxed his obsessive watch somewhat, taking every third day or so to sleep. Stoick and Astrid, and surprisingly Hensteeth Ingerman on occasion, took over the vigil for him while he slept like a large black bat upside down in the rigging.

Astrid was kicking at the grubby grey sand when to her mild astonishment Snotlout swaggered his way over to her. "Hey Astrid," he said in his brash way.

"Hey 'Lout," she said. He'd been uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole trip, and Astrid wondered what was on his mind.

"Sooooo," he said uncomfortably.

"So," she repeated, eyes turning out to the sullen sea.

"How you doin'?" he asked with a flirtatious lilt and a smarmy smile, his shoulders flexing. Astrid wondered if he even knew he'd done it, or if it was just Snotlout in Talking To Girls mode.

"How do you _think_ I'm doing?" she snapped, and sighed when she saw his wince. "Sorry, Snotlout. I'm... better than I was, I guess. Still not good, though."

"No, right, right," he mumbled, and followed her gaze out over the featureless ocean. "We'll get my scrawny little cuz back, Astrid," he said in what she suspected was an attempt at a sympathetic tone.

"Oh, I know," she said flatly. "I know."

He didn't seem in any hurry to break the ensuing silence, but the expressions that flitted over his face told her that he definitely had something on his mind.

"Spit it out," she said eventually.

He looked a little grateful for that. "Uh, yeah, soooo. I'm thinking that when this is all done and we've got Hiccup back I should be looking for a wife."

Her eyebrow rose. "Why are you talking to me about it?"

"Because you're sort of my friend, at least you're my age and you're a wife, well, you're _married_," Snotlout said in a rush. Astrid smiled in satisfaction. It was true – everyone knew she was married, but 'wife' still wasn't a title that sat well on her. She remembered the tiny Haddock, and tensed.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "And?"

"So what can I do to get a chick?" he said desperately. "I'm begging here, Astrid. I'm going to have to move to Phlock or Freezing-To-Death or Hopeless, and I'm gonna know _no one_. I'm gonna have no family there to negotiate for me. It's all gonna have to be me!"

"What, Vikingdom's biggest stud, worried?" she said in mock-surprise, and Snotlout's face reddened a little.

"I am still the manliest stud who ever hunked," he said in a stiff, wounded way. Astrid stifled another smile.

"Sure you are," she said consolingly. "Look, 'Lout, just… don't announce it all over the place. The girls in wherever you decide to settle have had enough of that their whole lives. Every Viking goes through life as though they're making sagas about him on the spot. It can get pretty repetitive. Just talk to them – and not always about how awesome you are or how you totally killed something to death."

Snotlout looked taken aback. "I thought chicks liked hearing about how awesome a guy is?"

Astrid folded her arms and looked at him significantly. He shifted uncomfortably, his face twisting through a number of indecipherable emotions. "Okay, all right, I get it," he eventually mumbled.

"Don't come on too strong, either," Astrid warned him. "Girls aren't idiots, and neither are they hugely impressed by a guy who only seems to be interested in them for their body. For example, offers to 'work out' together? Not terribly exciting. Or subtle."

Snotlout now looked a trifle bereft. "Then what in Freyr's name can I talk to a chick about?" he said in rising horror.

"Oh for the love of Thor," Astrid muttered. "Talk about how Berk is different to Phlock, or wherever. Places are different, you know. Talk about the dragons, about how it all changed. Talk about your family. Talk about your friends. And _listen_ to them when they want to talk about theirs."

Snotlout's eyes lost some of their panic, though he still looked distressed. "Listen?" he winced.

"Listen," Astrid confirmed.

"I think you're crazy, but I guess I'll try…" mumbled Snotlout, and he kicked at the grey sand awkwardly. "Uh, thanks, Astrid."

"No charge," she replied, her amusement resurfacing. Snotlout squared his shoulders and began to walk back to the fire. "Hey 'Lout? One last thing," she called after him.

"Yeah?" he turned, his face apprehensive.

"Don't call girls 'chicks'," she waggled her finger at him.

"Aw, _man!_" she heard his mutter as he turned away again.

She grinned at his broad, retreating back. That hadn't been so hard. Maybe she was better at this whole motherly advice thing than she'd thought. It was just a different version of the way she managed Hiccup. That was when she noticed Tuffnut standing off to one side, his eyes wide.

"How much of that was true?" he whispered hoarsely.

Astrid lifted her chin. "All of it."

Tuffnut's face fell. "I am hurt. I am sooooo hurt right now," he whimpered, pulling at his hair.

"There, there," Astrid said, fighting to control her twitching mouth as Tuff slouched miserably after Snotlout.

Gods, _boys_. Thank Frigga Hiccup had never been _that_ clueless…

Her smile abruptly vanished, and her hand unconsciously travelled to her stomach as she eyed the steely waves, her mood sobering. Not showing yet. But soon, very soon. By her estimates (and the Elder's) it would probably be within the next three weeks.

_Gotta make a decision_, Ruff's voice surfaced in her mind.

Getting closer, and no way of stalling. The tiny Haddock was on its own timetable, and ignoring it hadn't made it stop. It seemed the kid was as tenacious as she was. She had heard stories – what woman hadn't? – of children that melted away, or were born too early, their limbs and faces unfinished. She had never really considered that. Any kid of hers was going to fight, and any kid of Hiccup's was going to be more stubborn than a Gronkle with its own patch of kittygrass.

"You really want to live, don't you?" she murmured.

Great, talking to herself again. The tiny Haddock was in no place to hear her.

It was comforting though. She'd caught herself talking to it now and then. It was better than talking to the yawning space where Hiccup should be.

"Hang on, kid," she tapped her still-slim stomach irritably. "I gotta get Daddy back first."

Then there was a flicker of movement in the scrubby salt-brush beside the beach. Her brows knit, and she peered into the fading light.

Suddenly, a man clad in a ragged tunic burst from the bushes. He was yelling at the top of his lungs, and brandishing a rusty sword. His eyes were alight with a terrible, sneering glee. Astrid's breath caught, but that was all the shock she allowed herself to feel, sweeping her axe off her back and burying it in the man's stomach in a clean, hard blow. She kicked him off her weapon and span it to flick the blood off.

"Attack on the camp!" she yelled, turning to face the bushes where another four men were beginning a charge. "Attack on the camp!"

"Frigga's tits and teeth!" she heard Gobber swear, and she set her teeth as yet another wave of ragged men burst from the scrubby, stunted undergrowth. She ducked under a wild blow from a branch and swiped her axe across a dirt-smeared face, her body moving in smooth, practised motions. She pulled her dirk from her belt and threw it overarm into another's belly as she sensed the others behind her entering the fray.

"Have a taste of this!" Gobber roared, his hammer thudding over a red head and then swinging wildly into a chest. His assailant hit the ground with an 'oof!', his breath obviously gone. Stoick was fighting as though possessed, his prodigious strength shattering bones and smashing skulls. His face was a rictus of concentration, teeth bared in a grimace of pure rage. Astrid couldn't blame him for taking this opportunity to let some of his pent-up fury out on their attackers. Phlegma was spinning her spear, a wicked smile on her broad face and a shrill war-cry on her lips, while Spitelout stood back to back with her, his stony expression unmoving. Snotlout had one down, as did Ruffnut, her eyes hard and bright with the excitement.

Fishlegs was looking at his huge opponent with tremulous courage, his axe held protectively high as the black-haired, cruel-faced man stalked him. A low cry of distress caused his blond-bearded head to whip around to register Ruffnut cradling her arm protectively. A snarl of pain crossed her lips, and beads of her blood hit the dirty grey sand in an obscene pattern. "No…" he breathed.

And then something happened that Astrid could have sworn would never happen. Ever.

Fishlegs, sweet, shy, meticulous and nerdy, raised his thick arms and slashed his stalker's head clean from his shoulders faster than thought. A bellow of incomprehensible wrath tore from his lips, and he fought like a demon straight from Loki's loins over to Ruff. Blood flew as his axe ripped through the growling, hooting pack of attackers.

When he reached her side, he stood over her in a possessive crouch. His eyes were maddened, and he looked like a wild man. Blood dripped from his axe-edge and he hissed air between his teeth, a warning to any who would approach.

Astrid was incredulous.

"Night Fury!" hollered Tuffnut, as with a scream of attack, Toothless entered the fight. All the Berkians dropped to the ground immediately, as Toothless shot a sizzling ball of fire directly through the centre of the struggling combatants. Before the men could react to the shock, a one-finned tail had swept through their ranks and bowled them over. Those struggling to recover found a weapon pointed directly in their eyes, held by a grim-faced warrior.

It was over almost before it had begun, the ambushers lying dead, bleeding or unconscious on the ground. There were around thirty in number, all unkempt and scruffy, their faces cruel and vicious. Like a pack of carrion-feeders, Astrid thought in disgust, her breath coming fast.

"Get that one up!" Stoick pointed with his hammer at the red-haired man Gobber had winded, his face contorted in anger. "Get him up!"

Gobber hooked his hammer under the fellow's arm, and propped him up against one of the stunted trees. Toothless pranced impatiently before him, green eyes slitted in suspicion. Gobber pushed the Night Fury away, and smacked the man's face until he focused properly.

"What was the idea behind all that?" Gobber demanded.

The man spat in his face. Gobber smiled slowly, wiping it off, and then punched him solidly in the mouth.

"Lovely little fight," he commented breezily to the reeling redhead, before standing and making way for Stoick.

"Ambush," growled the Chief. "Cowardly an' pathetic, attacking a small camp. You could have asked for food, but no, you set up an ambush. What was the plan? Take the ship an' the women, kill the rest? Thought so. You're a pirate."

"Oh, well done," croaked the evil-faced man mockingly, before breaking into a round of coughing.

"You're goin' to answer some questions, lad," Stoick said with a glacial smile. "Or I'm goin' to feed you to the dragon. Which is it goin' to be?"

Toothless crept forward menacingly, a tongue of flame escaping his mouth. Astrid was impressed. The dragon had a true gift for the drama of the situation. Only the Berkians knew that he wouldn't hurt anything – at least not permanently. Except for fish.

"Ask, ask! But for pity's sake keep that monster away from me!" the man cried hoarsely. He tried to crawl away from the black beast, but with his back against the tree and with Phlegma and Spitelout holding their weapons to his throat, he couldn't move an inch and his legs simply scrabbled at the ground uselessly.

"Have you seen a lad, about so tall, eighteen summers old with reddish hair and one foot?" Stoick demanded. All those that knew him heard his voice shake, though it was doubtful that their captive could concentrate on anything but the dragon looming threateningly before him. "His name's Hiccup."

Astrid's breath caught. Such a short summary for the most important person in her life.

"The boy? Yeah, yeah, I seen him!" the man gabbled. "We was paid to get him, him an' the other bloke."

"Alberich," Stoick grunted. "Where did you take them?"

"Alberich!" the man laughed rustily, the whites of his eyes showing. "Told you all a pack of lies, he did. His name's Alvin the Treacherous, an' he's the one who paid us! An' then the lying little rat sold us out, he did. Took the kid an' all our plunder onto that scum Regin's tub! He's goin' south - I heard the name 'Ostia'... that's all I know! I swear!"

"Regin," Gobber scratched his chin. "That sounds familiar."

"Who's Regin?" Astrid shoved her axe into the man's face. He looked up at her merciless blue eyes, and gulped.

"Another pirate, miss," he whispered. "Torched our boat before he set off. He wouldn't have let us go at all, would have killed us all, 'cept the lad convinced the rat to put us in the longboat instead. Regin's a bad sort, miss. You don't want to go chasing after him."

"And you're all paragons of virtue and light," snorted Phlegma.

Astrid felt her insides freeze even as her throat grew tight. "That's Hiccup," she murmured. Then she fixed the brigand with a look that promised painful, embarrassing death. "And it's _Mrs_," she grated in a voice like thunder.

"Missus, right, right…" the man shrank back even further. His neck seemed to be retreating into his torso, his face becoming nothing but eyes.

Astrid stalked away. She'd heard enough.

"You all right?" It was Fishlegs, his broad features back in their usual, slightly worried but still genial configuration.

"Fine," she said curtly. "I'm fine."

"Astrid, I know you're not going to want to hear any statistics right now…" he started, and she gave him a sharp look. He swallowed. "And so, right, I don't actually have any to give you… but I _can_ say we're better off now than we were ten minutes ago. Odds-wise."

Astrid fixed her eyes back on the sea. How like him to try and make sure all of his friends were as happy as possible. "How about you, then?" she asked, wanting to get the topic of discussion as far away from herself and Hiccup as possible. "Did you know you were a berserker?"

Fishlegs went red. "Uh. Yeah. I've known since I was approximately eight years and eleven months old."

"Approximately?" she repeated, her humour tweaking. Even now, she found his earnest dedication to accuracy and relative 'plusses' endearing. It was such a part of him.

"And three days," he mumbled. "I couldn't help it. I can't control it."

"It's okay, 'Legs," she said softly, and reached out a hand to pat him on his hunched, broad back. She thought of what she couldn't control, and her eyes drifted south. The clouds scudded across the horizon, and she lowered her brow, as though by pure force of will she could part them. "It's okay."

* * *

_AN: I just can't stop writing in Astrid's headspace, it seems!_

_Also, timetable for the curious: It was four weeks (two there and two back) to undergo the trip to Phlock and back, then a week in Berk as they made their plans and gathered their provisions, and now five weeks into the voyage south. This would make Astrid 10 weeks along at the very, very earliest._


	7. Chapter 7

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Aw, thanks guys! **Voldyne: **Astrid's on the warpath all right! **Foxy's Girl: **:D Thanks hon! **The Incredible Puba: **There's _lots_ more battles in this, promise! **OmarBarria: **Here you go - and please don't do yourself any damage! **Leon Woon: **Wow, what an amazing review! I am blushing like a furnace, here! You are very welcome to call me whatever you wish, and thank you so much for your wonderful words! (The preserved cabbage was actually the Viking method of preventing scurvy, as cabbage is high in vitamin C!) **necro_wulf, Alluring Alliteration, 4ever2010: **Thank you so very much guys! I am loving your reviews.

And now without further ado, an unpleasant character and some angst. Hooray!

* * *

Gnaeus Appius Balbus lifted the dormouse languidly. The stupid wench had undercooked them again. He stuck it into his mouth, holding it by its curled, blackened feet. Urgh, nothing worse than an undercooked dormouse. He'd thought she'd gotten the message after last time, but perhaps it was time to reiterate it. Balbus hated repeating himself. So tedious.

The exotic young thing dancing before his divan shied away as he raised his hand lazily. A man in leather armour came to stand beside him, his face blank.

"Gracchanus," he murmured in his dusty way, "see that the kitchen girl is punished, would you? Dormice are underdone. There's a good chap."

Gracchanus nodded, silent, and stalked away. Balbus allowed himself a secret little smile. Such a useful addition to his operations. Iulius Gracchanus had been a legionnaire, had fought in Britain before he received his pension. The grizzled man had wanted no part of retirement, but neither had he wanted to sign up for yet another twenty years in sandals.

That was when he met Balbus, one of the wealthiest men in Rome, and certainly the most active slave trader outside the army itself. Gracchanus had leapt at the chance to resume work he knew.

And Balbus ended up with the most frightening bodyguard in the seven hills.

Fighting the blue-painted Celtish devils had broken something in the man. He was stone-faced and dead-eyed, unless violence was in the air, when his face came alight with something twitching and afire with madness. Balbus quite liked that side of him. It was a better conversationalist.

The dark girl with the olive-shaped eyes and hair like fabric danced on, her hands twisting into strange, foreign forms. Balbus eyed her smooth stomach and bared ribs appreciatively. The girl was a present from a rival – she was from the pepper-lands of India intra Gangem, even further away than Parthia. The rings adorning her face and fingers had been stripped summarily, but Balbus had plans to replace them. After all, part of her worth was her exoticness.

He didn't know that they necessarily had to be _gold_, though.

She danced strangely, her knees bent and bare feet stamping, fingers forming intricate shapes that he supposed meant something to her savage, uncultured people. Her hair was like the smoothest of Hispanic wines, shiny like Grecian honey, utterly alive in his hands. It snaked to her thighs in a long, dark rope. Her curved figure was clad in silks, strange embroidered pants, a tiny top that came to her ribcage, and six metres of the gauzy stuff wrapped in folds, pleats and artful gatherings around her, draping over her head. He loved those huge, dark eyes, like olives. There was no place for her to conceal her fear in eyes like that.

The bell rang.

Balbus sighed. "What _now._"

The girl flinched, her dancing faltering. Balbus threw her a look. "Who told you to stop?"

Those glorious eyes widened even further, and she danced on as Balbus hauled himself to his feet. "Plotina!" he roared. "Where are you, you harpy?"

"Shut your fat mouth, you giant worm!" came the dulcet tones of his beloved wife.

"There's someone on the bell, you stupid cow!" he bellowed back.

"Get a slave to do it, imbecile! Or have you driven them all off again, you heartless sack of shit!"

"You said we should be showing proper Roman hospitality! What with our beloved Emperor, the stammering fool, back home and all! Or were you so far in your cups that you can't remember that, you drunken whore?" Balbus stormed through his lush marble corridors.

"You can get it, tubby, you need the exercise!" Plotina's yell came from their sleeping quarters.

He threw open her doors, to see his darling bride scrambling off the startled, prone body of one of his newer acquisitions. "Always nice to see you're so faithful, dear," he said flatly. "Do try not to damage this one, it's such a waste of money."

Plotina Sulpicia pulled her filmy dress back into place and adjusted her jewelled diadem. "Oh please," she sneered, her thin face twisting. "I have never hurt any of them, and you know it. It's your pet soldier who causes all the losses. You're only going to send him to the Octavian Ampitheatre (1). At least let me send him with good dreams."

"That would require you to leave him alone," Balbus felt his lips purse. "Well? Since you're so hospitable lately, shall we?"

The lady lifted her chin at her piglike husband. "By all means," she said haughtily.

As they made their way in stony silence to the front gate of their luxurious villa, Plotina hissed, "you know it's only because that fool Claudius is obsessed with old Roman courtesy."

"I know, I know!" Balbus hissed back. "Shut up!"

"You shut up!" she flared. Balbus gritted his teeth and nodded to Gracchanus, standing by the door.

"Kitchen girl's punished," he said in his dead voice.

"Ahhhh, good," Balbus felt his spirits lift.

"What's this?" Plotina asked suspiciously. Balbus waved a plump hand dismissively.

"She undercooked the dormice again. Abominable. I had Gracchanus punish her."

Plotina rolled her eyes. "You fat fool. I told you yesterday that I asked for them like that – it's the newest way of cooking them. Aemilla Domita was telling me."

Balbus' eyes flicked to Gracchanus, who nodded very slowly. "Ah," he said blankly. "Well, it seems we might be trialling a new kitchen girl for cena." (2)

Plotina sighed in exasperation. Balbus straightened his toga virilis and gestured to Gracchanus to open the door.

"Finally!" said the Northman on the doorstep. "Thought you were never going to answer!"

"Ah, Alvus!" Balbus said jovially. "I haven't heard from you in over a year! Did you get what you were after, up there in those frozen barbaric wastes?"

"It's spring up there at the moment, and it's _Alvin_," said the young man pointedly.

"Aulus, yes, yes, of course I remember. So, did you?"

Alvin's hands twitched once, before he nodded to the evil-faced blond man behind him. "Regin," he said shortly. "Drop him."

The blond man had a bundle over his shoulder, which was struggling weakly. "He's drugged," Alvin said tersely as Regin thumped the bundle to the ground and began to untie it. "Had to, he wouldn't stop fighting us the whole way. He's a problem, this one."

The bag was whipped off, and Hiccup Haddock blinked in the sudden, painful light. "What…" he croaked.

"Can he speak a proper language?" Balbus looked with distaste at the filthy, scruffy, skinny thing, wrists bound, a month's beard on his cheeks and some sort of contraption on his – "he's _crippled_?" Balbus whipped his head up to glare at Alvin. "Appius, you'd better have a damned good explanation for this, or by Minerva I will-"

"Shut up, you fool," Plotina was studying the boy carefully, a predatory glint in her eye. "That's a clever bit of gadgetry. He has a skill, then?" she looked up at Alvin, who crossed his arms.

"He's a smith," he said shortly. "A good one. He invented that foot, and he can run and jump and climb with it."

"Very clever," Plotina mused, and her eyes narrowed. The boy shrank back, his dazed eyes wary.

"But because he's a problem," Balbus said slowly, "we can't use him."

Alvin tapped his head significantly. "I've got what we wanted from him," he smirked. "All the knowledge needed to tame those beasts. He simply gave it away, the boy's too trusting. But he's an important person back home, and that leg is distinctive. We have to get rid of him."

Balbus feigned astonishment. "Now, now, Aelius, I couldn't possibly do that! You know our beloved Emperor has placed new laws protecting the lives of slaves, I couldn't ever consider-"

"Save it, fat man," Alvin held up a hand. "We all know you kill them off faster than you can blink, one way or another."

"You want him dead?" Gracchanus' eyes brightened with a terrible excitement.

"No!" Alvin snapped, then seemed to check himself. "No," he drawled in a calmer voice. "Just out of sight. Make him disappear."

"Of course, of course," crooned Balbus. "He's out of your hair, I'll take care of it. Gracchanus…"

"No," Plotina raised an eyebrow. "I'll get my women to organise it. Your trained monkey there will make a hash of it, and if we're to re-sell this whelp, he's going to have to look the part."

"We're not re-selling him, dearest," grated Balbus, putting a pudgy arm over Alvin's shoulders. "He'll go to the stables."

"The stables?" she looked surprised, and then grim. "Fine. The stables. But I'm still getting my women to clean him. Gracchanus would take his head off if he tried to shave him."

"The stables?" Alvin looked back at the dazed, lolling figure on the floor. "You mean…"

"It's the best way to disappear," Balbus said soothingly. "No one will think of looking for him there. No one cares about those men."

"They get famous," Alvin pointed out, and Balbus laughed his wheezing laugh.

"Annaeus, Annaeus, do you think that barbarian _boy_ would be able to survive the feats needed to become a crowd favourite? No, no, no, he'll end up one of the bestiarii, or maybe even one of the venatores (3). There's plenty of them, so he'll be lost among the crowd, as it were. Should I bother with putting him in one of the schools, do you suppose? I'll act as his _munerarius_, naturally."

Alvin scowled. "Why bother, if as you say, he's not likely to survive?"

"My dear Atius, you don't actually care what happens to the lad, do you?" Balbus peered at Alvin mildly through pale blue eyes.

"Of course not!" Alvin barked, his accent more noticeable. Balbus smirked faintly.

Plotina took the boy's filthy hair and pulled his head back carefully, inspecting him. "The poor boy. What's his name?" she asked with a preoccupied look of concentration as she studied the grubby features.

"You won't be able to pronounce it," said Alvin sourly, "even if you _do_ remember it. Just call him by whatever gladiator name he's given."

"I'll call him Vulcan," the thin woman smiled, releasing his head and smoothing the rusty-coloured hair. "That should get a few laughs." She stood, looking down at the boy reflectively. "He's quite pretty, under all that hair," she mused.

Balbus eyed his wife with distaste, before turning back to Alvin. "Let Plotina's women take care of the lad," he said in that same calming way. "You've had a long trip. Let me get you a cup of wine. Tell me, do you enjoy exotic dancers? I have quite the little beauty…"

"Wait," Alvin cut through the fat man's soothing babble. "Wait."

He threw a pouch to Regin. "You're done. Go get drunk. If I need you, I'll look amongst the whores by the Amphitheatre as usual. Now get out."

"Always a pleasure," Regin said dryly in his raspy voice. His Latin was atrocious. "Lord, Lady," he sneered at the slave-trader and his wife, before hefting the pouch consideringly and stuffing it into his jerkin. Whistling jauntily, he gave a mock legionnaire's salute to Gracchanus, and sauntered back through the doors.

"What an ass," Alvin murmured sourly, and reminded himself to steal the pouch back before leaving Rome. "Now, one last thing."

He crouched down before the drugged and barely-conscious Hiccup. "Well, golden boy," he said in a low tone in Norse, his mouth curving into a satisfied smile, "here's where we part company. I'm not sure if you entirely understand the situation here, so I'll spell it out for you. The fat one owns you. The thin one wants you. And oh, wouldja look at that? There's absolutely _nothing_ you can do about it. You know why? You, my dear Hero of Berk, are a slave now, and slaves are routinely killed in this city. If you're left for dead, the fat one can be tried for murder, but he's never been caught and isn't likely to. His name's Balbus, by the way. The lady looking at you as though you're edible is his wife, Plotina. They can't speak Norse, and you can't speak Latin. I hope you enjoy Rome, Hiccup."

Hiccup's unfocused green eyes flickered with understanding, and he stared at Alvin. Hopelessness, rage and fear began to flood his face. "I will find you," he whispered in an unsteady but completely sincere voice. "I will."

"And do what? _Kill_ me?" Alvin laughed softly and derisively. "You, the Viking who couldn't kill anything? You fool."

"Can you understand any of that snarling babble?" Balbus hissed to Gracchanus, whose only response was to fold his arms.

Alvin stood, and his guileless eyes flickered with regret before steeling. "Oh, and finally?" he said to the wretched man before him. "Thanks _ever_ so for the info on the dragons, by the way. I'm hoping it'll be a comfort to you when you're fighting for your life for other people's amusement. You've just single-handedly spread the dragon peace all over the Roman Empire, did you know that?" His old smile, the charming, honest grin that had so fooled everyone, spread across his face. "Oh wait. I mean, _I_ did. At least, I _will_. Legionnaires and dragons. Good combination, huh? Won't be long now, and the whole known world will be Roman. Including your precious Berk. In fact, I might even suggest to the beloved Mother of the Country that we take the fight there _first_."

Hiccup simply stared at him, his eyes boring into Alvin's. "I will," he whispered once more.

Alvin let his smile turn vicious. "Looking forward to it," he breathed.

Then he turned to Balbus, eyes glittering. "You said something about wine?" he said in Latin, and Balbus rubbed his be-ringed hands excitedly.

"Oh yes, a lovely drop. Imported from Greece, you know. Perfect for after a long journey," he smiled unctuously at Alvin, who glanced back down at the immobile Hiccup once.

"Thought it'd never end, three months with that," he muttered.

"Yes, I saw how that lad seemed to get under that charade of yours," Balbus said blandly as he led him from the vestibulum and towards the main dining chamber. "Developing something of a conscience, my dear chap?"

"Don't be absurd," scoffed Alvin.

"Oh, I know how it is," Balbus assured him as he ushered the conman towards a divan. "I had the most exquisite little Ethiop once, this dainty little thing who spoke quite passable Latin. She could make me feel so sorry for her, I actually almost freed her."

"What did you do to her?" Alvin accepted a cup of wine and waited until Balbus had taken a sip of his own before drinking.

"Oh, I think Gracchanus happened to her," Balbus waved a hand in indolent dismissal. "That happens a lot, really."

"I see you're really cut up about it," Alvin remarked, before his brows lowered. "Look, I don't care about the boy. I _don't_. In fact, I hate him, quite a lot. He's just a skinny little screw-up who got lucky once."

"And you're the one who didn't, I see, I see," Balbus inclined his head politely.

Alvin scowled and drained his cup.

* * *

Hiccup's vision was blurry and his limbs were shaking like autumn leaves. He couldn't even support his own weight, and so he was carried in a daze over the shoulder of the forbidding man with the dead eyes. He was dumped on his rear in a beautifully tiled room with a sunken bath actually set into the floor, and he gaped at it in astonishment. What sort of people had enough wealth to do _that_?

The dead-faced man said something to the woman, who imperiously shooed him out of the door. Other women entered, dressed less grandly than the sharp-faced lady, carrying cloths and pitchers and all manner of things. Hiccup tried to focus on them as they scurried back and forth, and rubbed at his face desperately when his vision didn't clear.

The sharp-faced woman with the strange headdress said something scathing at him, and he looked at her helplessly, his hands fidgeting with the ropes tied around his wrists. She rolled her eyes, and grabbed a knife from within her kirtle. He backed away clumsily.

She held up a hand, her brown eyes exasperated, and then mimed a slash at invisible bonds with the knife. He blinked, and then held his wrists up tentatively.

She cut through the ropes with efficient swipes, and he rubbed at his wrists gratefully. He was free now, free to escape – but Alvin had said he was a slave, and as such he could be hunted down, he supposed. Escape could come later, when his vision didn't fade in and out.

Besides, he _really_ wanted a bath.

In the seven weeks since Alvin's betrayal, Hiccup had grown thinner and more reticent. He barely spoke to Alvin or Regin or whichever traitorous bastard it was who had fed him each day. He'd lost track of hours, watching shadows lengthen and rise. He'd stayed spellbound as he scratched on the floors of the tiny cabin with a fork, sketching Toothless, his dad, his home, his friends.

The sharp-faced woman was directing others to fill the bath, and he sank back to the floor in a drugged stupor. Water came seemingly from _nowhere_ to fill it slowly, but even the strangeness of this didn't really register. Instead, his confused mind latched onto the one thing he missed more than anything, and it was the opening of the floodgate.

He had spent so long firmly denying the memory, the very thought of Astrid. He'd told himself it was because the thought of her had hurt. That was partly true; missing her was like a sour ache in his stomach, a heavy weight sitting on his chest. However, by repressing it he had built up quite the backlog. By his best guess it had been almost four months since he'd stolen her headcloth, counting the two-week trip to Phlock. That was a long time to not think about her, her smile, her hair, her laugh. Under the influence of that cloying potion of Alvin's, all his barriers were breaking down. Now she was all he could see, all he could think of. The felt was soft under his fingertips.

"Astrid," he breathed, and nerveless fingers clutched at the pouch at his neck.

The woman looked startled, her head whipping around from the bath to look at him with interest. She said something and gestured to his neck, and he tightened his grip on his felt pouch. He could feel the scales and his wedding ring inside, wrapped in the headcloth.

She crouched down before him, and gestured again, repeating her babble in a somewhat gentler tone. Hiccup swallowed and looked down at the little bag, and moved his fingers for her to see.

Her eyes flicked down to it and her face softened a little. Somehow she didn't look quite so sharp or cruel anymore, simply tired and bitter. Her eyebrows rose at the little curl of hair stitched into the surface. She pointed at it, and then touched her own elaborate brown curls with a questioning look, incomprehensible sounds spilling from her lips.

Hiccup could feel his own lip trembling, and he scrabbled at the pouch briefly, opening it with fingers made awkward by the drug. He pulled out the headcloth and carefully unwrapped it. Slipping out his ring, the ring he had made himself to match hers, he held his shaking hand up directly before the woman's eyes and put it on his finger.

"Astrid," he said, and tapped the circle of pale blonde hair at his neck. His eyes were beginning to spill over. "Astrid," he repeated, and his voice cracked brokenly.

Her eyes were wide with shock. He put his hand over his heart, trying to get her to understand, to hear him. "Astrid," he gasped, and then like a storm breaking, the tears came.

He couldn't say how long he sat there, his head bowed against his grief and hopelessness, missing her, loving her, needing her. His hand stayed pressed against his pattering heart, his fingers gripping the ragged edge of his tunic. His tears rolled silently into his filthy beard, and he whispered her name over and over as he wept. He was a slave, a slave, and he would never see his wife again, never, never.

Never to have her small, strong hand curl about his. Never to have her little white teeth dig into his collarbone. Forever to fall asleep without her soft breathing beside him, her body long and warm and pale under the darkness of the furs and the night. Never to have her steal his blueprints, never to chase her until she gave them back with a kiss. Never to fly into the Northern Lights with her pressed against his back, their breathing and Toothless' wingbeats their only accompaniment. Never to hear her scold him for his insecurities or his habit of leaving plates everywhere. Never to see that small smile she gave him after loving him. Never to see her raise her axe, her face set in lines of determination. Never to touch the wealth of her sun-coloured hair, never to bury his face in it, ever again.

"Shhh," came a voice from outside his cocoon of misery. "Shhh, Vulcan."

Hiccup jerked his head up. His vision was less blurred, and he could see the woman's face clearer now. She looked concerned, and her clean, white hand was gingerly patting his heaving shoulder.

"I miss my wife," he said in shattered desperation. "I miss her, I miss her, and I love her and I'm a slave, I was captured by pirates and I'm a _slave_."

She tilted her head, her brow furrowing. "Vulcan?" she said.

"Ful-can?" Hiccup repeated dumbly, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Plot-een-a," she pointed to herself.

Hiccup rubbed the heel of his hand under his eyes and sniffed. "Plot-een-a," he said, and she nodded again, patting his shoulder some more.

"Plotina," she said, smiling, and pointed to herself again. "Vulcan," she said, and pointed at him.

He shook his head. "Hic-cup," he said and tapped his chest, but she shook her head in return.

She looked side to side exaggeratedly, and then said, "Hic-ahp, _sssshhhhh!_" She pointed at him again, and then said "Vulcan," loudly.

His name had to be secret? He didn't know why, but she was his mistress, and he was a slave now, and she was the only person who had shown him any kindness in two months. He nodded. "Vul-can," he repeated. Then he held up his pouch to show her the circle of hair again. "Astrid," he said, and stroked it with a gentle forefinger.

She smiled a little sadly. "Ast-reed."

Then she stood, her expression a little regretful, and said something to the other ladies in the room. The water filling the pool shut off, and he met her gaze as she nodded to him.

"Vale, Vulcan," she said kindly, and closed the door behind her.

* * *

"So, did you take him? The pretty Northerner?" Balbus mocked as she readied for bed.

Plotina ignored him.

She'd once wished to be loved like that.

* * *

(1) The Flavian Amphitheatre (Colosseum) would not be built until 72 AD, completed in 80 AD. For reference, this story is set in 50AD.  
(2) "Cena" = Dinner – a late afternoon/early evening meal, the main meal of the day.  
(3) Bestiarii – animal fighters, not considered a true Gladiator. Venatores – animal hunter & trainer, did tricks with wild animals.

* * *

_AN: So! Thoughts?_


	8. Chapter 8

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Wow, so glad to see that people love all the research I put into this! It's incredibly gratifying, thank you all so much!

A big review response this time... **Foxy's Girl: **Aw, I'm sorry! *hands you tissues* And also full of pleased and embarrassed squee... oh my, lovely Foxy's Girl, can I hire you to boost my ego 24/7? (Looking forward to Astrid's laser vision... ! XD) **Necro_wulf:** I've never seen the series of Spartacus, but I'm familiar with the historical details (and the music from the ballet... ohhhh Khachaturian, soooo romantic!). Yup, some similar themes here, but he was Greek and it was 100 years earlier or so, I believe. I _did_ first get interested in Roman History through a television show many years ago, however_ - _and it wasn't HBO's _Rome,_ either, although I do love that show to bits. Titus Pullo for king! **4ever2010:** Yup, they are definitely in Rome! Alvin is the one who confirmed it, with his line, "I hope you enjoy Rome, Hiccup." Thank you so much for your lovely and prolific reviews! They're such a wonderful reward. **crouchbk:** Thanks - and may I say how much I _love_ your reviews! And yup, our first Roman is an absolutely disgusting character, but we're going to see some other Romans who are good people. I'm hoping not to stereotype them simply because it would be easy - thus, Plotina, a sad character not easily pigeonholed. This is actually set prior to the Visigoth Sack of Rome by perhaps 300 years, so our Vikings are actually their ancestors! Nope, I actually haven't seen any stories that acknowledge the Vikings practicing slavery... I'm only nodding to it here and there with the mention of enslaved concubines. From the look of the film (especially the nature of the women's roles) it seems Berk wouldn't be so hot on such things. They're quite unorthodox for Vikings, really! **consuelas revenge: **Oh my, thank you so very very much! I'm so glad you did review, it's such an encouragement! **Voldyne, Alluring Alliteration, Ze Great Camicazi & Miseria-Veritas:** Thank you, guys! *smish* I am having a blast writing it, and it's food for the soul to know that others are finding enjoyment in it also!

Okay, on with it!

* * *

Hispalis (1) was a bustling port town. Men and women shrilled their wares in the lilting native tongue, though snatches of other languages, Latin, Gallic, Greek, Gothic, Gaelic and even Norse could be heard throughout the dock-markets. The smell of fish was overpowering, and Astrid swallowed hard as she followed Stoick through the shouting crowds.

The people wore strange clothes, the women clad in long, flowing skirts with strange headdresses, the men in tight trousers with looser shirts and occasionally a thin jerkin. The sun was overpowering, and she really didn't need to be sweltering within her weasel-fur lined coat, but she was too unnerved to take it off.

She was showing.

She'd noticed a little earlier, but had written it off to too much preserved cabbage, or fish, or salt retention from both of the above. But this morning it had been unmistakable as anything else but pregnancy. A distinct thickening of her waist, her belly hard in a way she'd never really known it to be. It wasn't the ridged, pliant hardness of muscle, but a curving plane of taut skin, like a drum. She had touched it incredulously, before propping up her shield and having a good look in its polished surface.

Small as yet, but there. Her abdomen curved outwards, the lump visible just at her hip.

Loki's burning balls.

She cupped it gently, testing the hardness, the newness of it. It didn't feel right, didn't feel like a part of her at all. She flattened her hands over it, and pressed down, and she felt it give very, very softly. Still room, of course. There'd be less room later.

Oh gods, later. She was going to be big as a dragon, clumsy and pathetic and ridiculous. She was going to _waddle._

She was going to _kill_ Hiccup when she finally got her hands on him.

Her navel had even become a little shallower. She peered down, and saw the perfect crescent-moon curve cutting a slice through her normally unimpeded view of her feet. Small as yet, but there.

She ran her left hand over the little dome, getting used to the convex shape of it, the sweep of her belly under her hand. The Elder had said that once she showed, much of the danger would have passed.

The Elder had also leaned forward, her wrinkled lips crooking in amusement. "That's when all the fun begins, dear," she purred in her soft, old-woman voice. "Once you show, even just a wee bit, you don't stop growin'. You'll wake up some mornings thinkin', well, baby didn't get any bigger last night. And you'll wake up others grown clear out to _here_. 'Popping out,' they call it. An' that reminds me…"

She went on to tell the horrified Astrid all about her navel turning out, and how as she reached the last months her belly would grow large and heavy and round, causing her back to sway. About food and sleep attacks and insomnia. About vivid dreams and backache and swollen ankles.

"Better appreciate this, kid," Astrid muttered, smoothing her hand over the lump again.

When she looked up, Ruffnut was looking at her with a knowing expression. Astrid scowled, and pulled her armoured shirt down, picking up her coat and tugging it on with movements made jerky by anger and fear.

As she pushed past Ruff, she heard the other girl say, "hey Astrid?"

"What?" she rounded on her, her eyes challenging.

Ruffnut just smiled a bit. "Looks good."

Astrid dropped her gaze to her concealed abdomen, where the Tiny Haddock was getting less tiny every day. There would be _popping_. "Thanks," she mumbled.

Ruffnut tilted her head. "You scared?"

Astrid opened her mouth to deny it, but closed it abruptly. Then she took a huge breath and let it out shakily. "Terrified," she admitted quietly, and left to speak to Stoick about going ashore.

They were running out of coast. They'd hit the northern horn of Gaul at a crawl when the currents picked them up and swept them along the edges of Hispania at a tearing clip. They'd pulled into port at Portus Amanus (2), trying to find information and purchase charts of the region, but it had been impossible to make themselves understood. A passing sea-trader had known enough Norse to tell them that they would find plain sailing along the Hispanic coast, but when they asked about Ostia, he simply looked at them like they were mental. It had not been reassuring.

Stoick's map ended at Gades (3), the southernmost tip of Hispania. It was only three days away, and then they would be sailing blind. Not the best option. Astrid had convinced the Chief of the necessity of securing a chart, hopefully one with 'OSTIA' written on it in big letters. In a language that they could read. So they weighed anchor at Hispalis and while Gobber and Phlegma restocked provisions, she and Stoick searched for information again.

"Aren't you hot?" Stoick muttered to her as she wiped her brow.

"No, it's completely freezing," she retorted sarcastically. "Of course I'm hot, the sun is _blinding_ here. I don't know how anyone goes outside at all."

"Used to it, I guess," he shrugged. "Take the coat off then."

She fingered the white weasel-fur. "Um."

He glanced back at her, before raising an eyebrow. "For Freya's sake, Astrid, I already know. Take the coat off. An' you have to tell the others."

She tore it off and looked up at him defiantly, daring him to say a word about her new profile. "I know, I know, I know!" she snapped.

His eyes softened once more as he took a step back to view her. "Ah, lass," he said softly, but didn't elaborate any further. He put a hand on her shoulder for a second, before resuming his stride through the crowd.

Astrid looked down at the little crescent moon again, pulled a face at it, and scurried after him.

A snatch of Norse made her head turn, and she hissed Stoick's name several times before he heard her. She jerked her chin towards the voices, and he nodded with grim satisfaction. His face fell into the eerily carven lines it had settled into since Hiccup's abduction as he strode towards the group of drunken men, his huge arms folding. "Gentlemen," he said imposingly. "Got a minute to help a lad from home?"

"Lad…?" one of the Vikings said with a doubtful look. "Tyr's teeth, I am _never_ goin' back home if all the lads are like you nowadays."

"Not me," Stoick suppressed a sigh. "I'm Stoick o' Berk."

"Oi, I know you! You're the islander chief what's got dragons as pets!" another of the Vikings blurted, and Stoick acknowledged that with a curt nod.

"Aye, that'd be me. My son's been kidnapped, an' taken to a place called 'Ostia.' Any of you know where that is?"

There was a resounding silence.

"You're kidding, right?" one of them eventually asked.

Astrid restrained herself from putting her axe through his incredulous face. "No, he's not kidding!" she snarled, pushing past her mountainous father-in-law.

"Whoa," another said.

"Islander women," the first said sagely. "Might want to let me handle this one."

"Well? Where is it?" Astrid demanded.

"_How can they not know…?_"

"_Shut up._ Ahem. Ostia's the nearest port to Rome, ma'am. Centre of the Empire an' all." The man smiled hesitantly.

"Rome?" she said in a harsh whisper.

"Yes, ma'am," he gulped. "Er… sorry?"

"Hiccup's in Rome," said Stoick blankly, and the men seemed to quail a little.

"Ah, I guess, Chief Stoick… uh, sorry to you too?"

"We need a chart of the Mare Internum (4)," Astrid said, pulling herself together. "Do any of you have one?"

"Not me… but Sextus Secundus Tullo does! The port attendant!" he yelped. "Pleeeeease don't kill me?"

"You lot call yourself Vikings?" Stoick snorted.

"Hel, no. I'm a Dane, just a Dane," the man blubbed.

"_Hey, I'm a Viking…_"

"_Please shut up!_ You'll find his offices down by the wharves," he said with a terrified smile.

"Thank you," Astrid lifted her chin. "You've been very helpful."

"Um, thanks ma'am," he said, seemingly confused that he was still intact. Then he blinked, and said, "uh, and… congratulations?"

Astrid's glare could have cut him in half. He swallowed, and closed his eyes, the veins on his neck standing out.

"Come on," Stoick muttered, and turned her, and she followed him, fuming for no reason she could think of, back down to the wharves.

Sextus Secundus Tullo proved to be a small man in a stained toga. He stammered profusely as he handed the charts over to Stoick, his eyes wide and darting. He grabbed the money from Stoick's hand as though he were contagious, and when he started to protest that the coins weren't sestertii, a single raised eyebrow was enough to silence him.

"Well, that was easy," Stoick grunted as he led the way back to the longship.

"Yes, it only took two and a half months," Astrid growled under her breath as she fought to read the scratchy writing on the chart. "Where did he mark it?"

"It's the one there, the black mark," Stoick pointed. "See it?"

Astrid looked at the distance. "That's got to be another five weeks of sailing," she said in despair, and he gingerly patted her shoulder.

"At least we know where we're goin' now, right?"

"I guess that's something," she sighed, studying the route. "We're near to the pass into the Mare Internum, anyway."

"The Fretum Herculeum (5), the little man called it," Stoick said absently. "Nasty rocks and reefs."

"We've got Toothless," she pointed out. "His eyes are better than any of ours. He could look out for them."

"Aye, there's an idea," he nodded. "An' then we hook around that big island there, and north to Rome."

"Right," she nodded back, studying his proposed route. "Will we need to stop to provision-"

"_Astrid_?" came a gasp, and her head jerked up out of the chart. She was suddenly incredibly aware of her coat slung over her shoulder, her tight armoured shirt.

"Oh no, not yet," she moaned, and felt Stoick's chuckle rather than heard it.

"Better now than later, Astrid," he murmured, and turned her to face Gobber and Phlegma.

Gobber had dropped a bunch of sacks and a whole haunch of salt beef straight onto the cobbled stones, his blocky face astounded. Phlegma had raised her eyebrows, and looked disapproving.

"You're…" Gobber's eyes were wide, his jaw gaping.

"You shouldnae come on this voyage, you idiot child!" Phlegma exploded. "Expectin' a bairn an' all, you should be ashamed! You're takin' your babby's life in your hands…"

"Oh, Astrid, I am so happy for you!" Gobber seized her shoulders and pulled her into a crushing hug. "Oh, Hiccup's goin' t' be thrilled, he's goin' – well, he's probably goin' to stammer an awful lot and look poleaxed for a week - but after that, he'll be thrilled!"

"…irresponsible, look at you, only just started to bloom an' you could have lost the child at any moment…" ranted Phlegma.

"Aw, now, how far along, then?" Gobber pulled back, his hook digging painfully into her shoulder. His face was wreathed in a beaming, slightly silly grin. "Not far, no, oh Astrid, look at you, you bonny thing! You look radiant, so you do!"

"…endangering a child's life, you're askin' the Gods to curse you! You foolish girl…"

"Can ye feel it moving?" Gobber asked eagerly, and Astrid just looked at him dumbly and shook her head. Between the pair of them, they were a bit overwhelming. "Ah, soon enough," Gobber chucked her under the chin. "I cannae believe my little lad's goin' t' be a father, seems only yesterday he was inventin' new ways to embarrass himself an' settin' fire to the shop an' distemperin' perfectly good swords…"

"… ye wantin' a child to grow up wi'out a father _or_ mother?" finished Phlegma, her impressive chest heaving as she eyed Astrid sternly. Then she added in a plaintive voice, "you could have told me, you know. I'd have helped you."

Astrid hung in Gobber's grip. "Thanks?" she said weakly.

"Back to the ship," Stoick suggested gently. "I'm guessin' the secret's out, Astrid."

"I guess so," she said, looking between the beaming and sulky faces apprehensively.

Gobber picked up his haunch of beef and slung a few sacks of grain over his shoulder, beginning his jerky way back to the longship. "We should celebrate!" he chortled. "There's that lovely keg callin' my name, an' I'll raise a few for Hiccup, since he's not here to drink 'em."

Stoick's mouth turned up a little as he regarded his battle-brother. It erased some of the deep lines that had formed on his face. "Aye, might join you there."

The ship came into view, and Astrid shrunk back as the two men blithely continued. "An' you, eh? Stoick the grandpappy! That deserves a few tankards in itself, wouldn't you say?"

"Go on, Astrid," Phlegma prodded her back, her face still sulky. Astrid stiffened defiantly, her eyes blazing, and Phlegma sighed. "All right, lass, no need to get so uptight. I know why you did it, an' I'm not your mother, speaking of who, Gerda is goin' to tan your hide until you can see through it. But you still should have told me. I _am_ the village midwife, after all."

Astrid blinked. She'd forgotten about that. "I just…" she began, and sighed. "Sorry."

Phlegma hoisted the barrel of water higher on her thick shoulder, and nodded. "Now, did you get sick? Hmm. An' are you still? No, no, that's normal, an' I'll bet you're all the more grateful. Now what you've been eating makes a bit more sense, but you need to get some more greens. I'll buy some before we leave Hispalis, though I don't recognise all this foreign muck. An' you need fresh meat, not salted. I'll see you get a decent meal at least. Not so much fish, it's not always good for the babby. An' you're probably not sleeping, or sleeping too much?"

"Barely at all," Astrid admitted. "And I have the craziest dreams."

"That's normal too, don't you worry your head over that. I'll brew up some of my herbs, should help you nod off. Stayin' awake like that doesn't do you or your little one any favours."

Astrid steeled herself as she climbed the rope-ladder up to the longship. The three boys and Ruffnut were playing dice on the deck, Spitelout and Hensteeth talking quietly whilst they coiled rope. They looked up as she hopped on deck and threw her coat down over a barrel, and several faces went slack at the sight of her.

Astrid met Ruffnut's eyes, and nodded. Ruff smiled slyly, nodding back.

"Hey, Astrid, maybe you should work out a bit more often," Snotlout said pointedly, and Astrid sat down beside Ruffnut, who elbowed her.

"It's a temporary thing," she said with dignity. "What are the stakes?"

"Okay, so, logically speaking, you can't be less than three and a half months… _prgnt_," Fishlegs said, turning a brilliant red.

"Closer to four, and you can say it, 'Legs," she said as breezily as she could manage. She felt completely naked even though she was fully clothed. She'd thought the curve of the Tiny Haddock was small as yet, but now it seemed huge, a giant target painted on her clothes. "The stakes, guys?"

"I officially hate my life," said Tuffnut flatly, and Snotlout gave him a curious look.

"Because you've finally realised I'm better than you?" he suggested with a snigger.

"Because dweeby little _Hiccup Haddock_ not only became a hero, married the hottest girl in the village and had sex _before me_ - which is painful enough, may I add – he also went and knocked her up and he's going to be a father. I may never recover from how much this hurts." Tuff yanked off his helmet and pulled his hair over his face.

"Well, you're better at being blond," Ruffnut sneered, and got Tuff's pointy elbow in her face. She pounced, and suddenly everything was normal.

"You're pregnant?" Snotlout asked Astrid in a faint voice. She nodded as the twins rolled across the deck, biting and kicking.

"That explains the preserved cabbage and salt fish," Fishlegs mused, and she shrugged.

"Yeah, that and I was so happy to be able to eat again," she said dryly.

"Oh," Snotlout blinked. "Eh, okay. Hey, does this mean I can tell pregnant lady jokes?"

"Do and die," said Astrid sweetly.

* * *

Hiccup was thoroughly confused. He'd been shaved and washed by Plotina's servants back in the lovely villa – a strange and incredibly hazy experience. He was slightly glad that he'd been half-drugged the whole time, because being scraped down with olive oil by three strange women would have sent him into paroxysms of humiliation in his normal frame of mind. His hair had grown out even more, and he'd had to tie it back, though pieces at the front kept falling into his eyes. He suddenly knew how Astrid felt about her fringe.

He'd been taken to a warm place, a kitchen he supposed, where elaborate and strange dishes were prepared by a girl who sobbed the whole time. She had given him a plate of meat and bread, and some sweet little fruits that he had gobbled up like a starving man. She'd smiled at him through red-rimmed eyes and given him some more.

Then they'd put him in a strange carriage in the dead of night, and he'd been driven off somewhere. His head still muzzy and his eyes still stinging from his cathartic tears, he'd been pulled from the carriage and pushed through a forbidding set of doors that boomed shut behind him. He was shuffled down grubby corridors, and sent into a room where another twenty men were sleeping on thick straw pallets. The air was thick with the stench of unwashed men and thunderous snores. He was pushed down onto a pallet, handed a short sword they called a 'gladius', and his hammer. That was a true relief, to have the weapon he had made for himself back in his hands. Then a blanket and some strange clothes were thrown at his head, and he was left there.

The minute the doors shut, most of the snores stopped and eyes glittered at him in the darkness.

"Uh, hi?" he ventured.

There were some hurried whispers, and then a man with wild hair and a blue-painted face loomed out of the gloom. Hiccup shrank back.

"Be easy, small man," the man said in halting Norse. "This is right language?"

Hiccup nodded in relief and uncurled his hand around his hammer. "Oh, _yes!_ Yes, you speak Norse! Here I was thinking that no one in this place was _ever_ going to-"

The man held up a hand, his brow furrowed. "Slow," he said adamantly. "Slow."

"Ah, sorry," Hiccup blinked more of the fog from his eyes. "Your name?"

"My name? No name here," the man seemed amused. "I am the Briton. You?"

Hiccup was about to answer, when he remembered a woman with tired bitterness in her eyes shaking her head. "Vulcan," he said firmly.

"Vulcan! Smith-god!" the man threw his head back and laughed, a huge booming noise. "I liking you, Vulcan. And… word is ah, foot?"

Hiccup glanced down. "Yeah, no foot."

"No foot, hurt like smith-god," the man repeated, hugely entertained. He sat at the end of Hiccup's pallet, which creaked alarmingly.

"Smith-god, huh," Hiccup said, squinting at the Briton. "That's… appropriate, I guess, though it's kind of a lot to live up to."

"You smith?" the man pulled at his beard absently, peering at the smaller man.

Hiccup nodded. "Made foot," he lifted his leg, and the Briton whistled.

"Good smith," he nodded approvingly. "Much good smith."

"Thanks," Hiccup glanced down at his leg, before unbuckling it and pulling off the leather sock. Shame be damned, it was hot in there and his leg was itchy.

The Briton hissed low between his teeth as he took in the bite-scars around Hiccup's knee and the reddened ridges. Hiccup ignored it and set to scratching, his lower lip caught in his teeth. "Oh, that is about a million times better," he groaned.

"Fire lizard," the man said, a look of fear passing quickly over his painted face.

Hiccup looked up, and the man pointed at the teethmarks. "Fire lizard," he repeated, and Hiccup nodded slowly.

"Dragon," he corrected, and the man looked thoughtful.

"Dragon," he repeated, and scowled. "We have dragon, in Britannia. Red, with horn and claw and green eyes. Head like… horse. Kill dragon?"

"No!" Hiccup drew back, and the man regarded him in confusion.

"Dragon did 'no foot', you no kill dragon?" he said sceptically, and Hiccup scowled.

"Dragon saved my life. I was falling – you know falling?" Hiccup held a hand up and let it drop, and the Briton's eyes widened in understanding. "Dragon caught me, saved my life. Lost my foot, but I'm still alive."

The man folded his arms. "Dragon free?"

Hiccup sighed. "I hope so," he murmured wistfully, and the Briton's face grew fascinated.

"Dragon _family_," he said softly, and Hiccup nodded.

"Miss him," he said sadly, and pulled the scales from his pouch. The weight of his ring on his hand distracted him, and he pushed his earlier despair from his mind. The Briton took the two scales, one black and one blue, tied together with red thread. Hiccup tapped the black scale. "My friend," he said, and then stroked it with a finger. The familiar feel of Toothless' scales greeted him, and he closed his eyes briefly.

The Briton tipped his head, flipping the scales over to the blue one. "Not family dragon?" he said, and Hiccup laughed painfully.

"My wife's dragon," he said through a throat that felt full of razorblades.

"Marry of small man," the man said understandingly. "Sorry."

"S'okay," Hiccup sighed. "Just… go easy on me, huh? Today has really been something else."

The man looked closer at Hiccup's eyes. "Plant," he said decisively, and waved a hand meaningfully by his own head. "Plant that makes head fog?"

"Yeah, drugged," Hiccup said wryly, tucking the scales back into his pouch. "I recommend it for all your kidnapping needs."

The man looked bewildered, and Hiccup cursed himself for going too fast. "Sorry," he held up his hands. "Plant, yes. Drugged."

"Ah! Drugged," the man tested the new word. "You drugged. Sleep. I guard."

"What, really?" Hiccup pushed his fringe from his eyes and stared at the man, who looked down at him with a calm air of dignity. "Thank you, that'd be…"

He stopped. "Why do I need a guard?" he asked suspiciously.

The man smiled faintly. "You know where is you?"

Hiccup shook his head.

"You in gladiator barracks. Octavian Amphitheatre. Men here, they see new man, they take his things, maybe his body. No mercy here, few friends. I," he smacked his chest, "I am the Briton. They know me, some know past of mine. They will not touch Smith-god," he grinned.

Hiccup froze. Alvin's mocking words floated back to him, touched by the drug fugue and his own distress:_I'm hoping it'll be a comfort to you when you're fighting for your life for other people's amusement._

This is what he meant. He was a prisoner of the arena, his life meaningless except for the bets to be made on him.

Hiccup's earlier anguish had barely even scraped the surface. Now he was chilled steel, his mind filling with ice.

"Thank you," he heard himself say. "Very kind of you."

"Smith-god?" the Briton leaned forward, worry in the hazel eyes, before he gave an 'ah' of understanding and sat back. "You know in bones, now," he said softly.

"Yeah," Hiccup said from a million miles away. "In my bones."

"You will be better," the Briton said soothingly. "Morning. Sleep."

Hiccup pulled the blanket over himself and the lake of ice in his mind, tucked his foot and hammer underneath, stuck the gladius into the floorboards, and hid so that the kind man couldn't see him shake.

* * *

(1) Seville  
(2) Castro Urdiales  
(3) Cadiz  
(4) Meditteranean Sea  
(5) Straits of Gibraltar


	9. Chapter 9

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

You lovely reviewers. ILU guys.

**Voldyne:** Noooo, no comas please! For a start, you'd be reading _forever - _I'm halfway through writing chapter 23! **Foxy's Girl: ***basks* You lovely lady you! I know, poor Tuff and 'Lout. No totty for them, poor things. To Phlock with you, boys! **necro_wulf: **You make me blush like a fire engine! Oh, thank you _so_ much. I love your ideas on 'Vulcan' - yes, I liked the parallels too! And Plotina was a great character to invent. Roman women, especially noblewomen, didn't have it so good, so she's a great way of displaying the relative freedom of the Berkian women. I love the comparison to Persephone too!** Miseria-Veritas:** Nope, but they sound fantastic! I'll have to check them out! *g* Yeah, as I've got so much of it completed, I like to post fairly quickly. One a day at the moment. **OmarBarria: **Thanks! Glad you enjoyed! **story master: **The answer is no - but that's all I'm saying, I can't give it all away! And if you sign in, I'll send you a reply about your ideas. I can't incorporate them, as I've almost finished this, but maybe you should write your own story? **Ze Great Camicazi: **Thanks! *blush* **Leon Woon: **Yeah, a very different sort of people to our Vikings! And yup, I didn't do do the 'easy' thing and make them all speak the same language, or understand it immediately. Which is occasionally hard to keep straight!

* * *

Well, things weren't exactly _better_ in the morning, but they were a whole lot clearer.

Hiccup's eyes were sandy, and his heart ached like a wound, but he felt stronger than he had in months. The drug fog had risen from his mind, and he felt as lucid as he ever got. He wasn't chained and he had his hammer. This in itself was a massive improvement. The thought of Astrid still lingered in the back of his mind, a ghost that loved him and punched his arm and kissed him. It hurt, but he'd learned that lesson. He wasn't going to force the thought out this time, and have a big old breakdown in a highly inappropriate place sometime later. Again.

He dressed in the strange clothes the overseers had left him – a pair of short trousers and a short, sleeveless tunic. A pair of leather vambraces were too big for his forearms, and so he ignored them. There was a pair of sandals, and he strapped one to his right foot. He belted his own belt over the lot, and tightened the strings of his pouch. Lastly he took off his ring and put it back into the little felt bag carefully.

Hiccup stayed close to the Briton as the men were led out into a sandy oval. "All foreign," whispered the Briton. "Our room, all not Roman."

Hiccup looked around at the twenty or so people limbering up, their wooden practice weapons a mad mishmash of styles and cultures. So there was a barrack for only foreign gladiators?

"Where are the rest?" he whispered back, and the Briton surreptitiously pointed out other barracks lining the oval, as well as a large cell.

"Romans, slaves," he said with a harsh smile. "There, in prison room, is… dead men. Criminal. They fight to death."

Hiccup looked over at the cell, and shuddered.

They were an eclectic bunch. There were Celts and Gauls and Thracians, as well as a few hulking Goths. There were Hispanics and a couple of dark-skinned men with shaven heads, their faces lean and calm. Hiccup tried not to stare.

And surprisingly, there was a woman. She was near middle-age, tall and lean, her shoulders and arms hinting at a prodigious strength. She wore a breastplate and kirtle, and carried a practice gladius and a wooden double-bladed war axe, her hair tied back in a knot with two bright white streaks running through it from her temples. "They have a woman in the barracks?" he asked the Briton incredulously.

"Not just woman," the Briton said mysteriously. "Watch. Stay close."

Hiccup looked on with growing astonishment as the men paired up. Within a couple of breaths, the woman had her opponent lying panting on the ground. He'd been disarmed and winded efficiently and brutally, and she hadn't even broken a sweat in the harsh morning light. He blinked. "Whoa."

"She is crowd favourite," the man said, chuckling. "She is called Nemesis by crowds. Goddess of revenge."

"Suits her," Hiccup gulped.

"No one know how long she here, or where. I hear stories. She senator's daughter who goes to arena and in disgrace. She only left of a whole village burned to ground. She reincarnation of this warrior or that. Many, many different stories. She never say where. Only Nemesis. Kill every time she is in ring."

Hiccup watched as the woman bent to her downed opponent, and casually lifted him up with one hand. She propped him back up on his wobbling legs, and punched him solidly across the jaw. He slumped back to the ground, unconscious.

"I believe it," Hiccup bit his lip.

"Now we spar," the Briton said in a tight voice, pulling a long-bladed wooden sword from his back. "Not to hurt, to practice. I go gentle on you, Smith-god," he added, grinning.

Hiccup gave a wry grin and unhooked his hammer. "Appreciate that," he said.

The Briton lunged to Hiccup's side, and he darted around, feeling the rhythms that Astrid had taught him all those months ago settling into place. He leaned back on his bad foot and used his sandalled one to kick white sand in the Briton's face. He exclaimed in annoyance.

"Clever, smith-god!" he laughed, "much clever!"

"It's 'very'," Hiccup told him helpfully, and pivoted to land a precise back-handed blow with his hammer on the Briton's sword-shoulder. He dropped it, fingers nerveless, as the shock ran down his arm.

"Very," the Briton panted, a tight grin on his face. "Smith-god very tricky. Looks little. Fights well!"

Hiccup grinned back. "My wife taught me."

"I would not like to fight your marry," the Briton shook his head.

"Yeah, she's pretty terrifying," Hiccup agreed.

The two overseers who had watched the little fight now came over and looked suspiciously at the Briton, before inspecting Hiccup with faint surprise on their face. One of them gabbled at him, and he shook his head helplessly.

"Man asks if Smith-god is afraid of animals," the Briton translated, and then drew himself up and thumped at his chest, speaking back to the man with near-glacial dignity.

"Uh, what are you saying?" Hiccup hedged, and the Briton pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"You maybe to fight animals, not men. Good fighter, but will not kill, not even dragon. Smith-god to have better chance with animals."

Hiccup's mouth dropped open for a second, and he clapped it shut again as the men's gazes swung back to him. He didn't know how the Briton knew about his attitude to killing things, but he was dead right. He didn't want to kill animals. Neither did he want to kill men. He really wasn't down with the whole idea of killing _anything_, really.

He heard the name 'Vulcan' several times as the men had a quick, hurried conversation, and he stood silently, waiting. Finally, the two overseers nodded and spoke to the Briton imperiously. The Briton stood with calm dignity as they gesticulated offensively in his face.

"Man says, Smith-god a bestiarius. Fights animals." The Briton looked down his impressive, hooked nose at the sneering overseer. "To stay in barracks with foreign fighters. Not a gladiator. Will be put in ring with dead men tomorrow for games for Imperial triumph…" he trailed off, and his chin lifted a little as he continued with pain in his hazel eyes, "for Imperial triumph for victory over Britannia."

"What in Hel's name does that mean?" Hiccup asked, bemused. A sense of dread was rising in him.

The Briton gave him a terse look. "You to be put in arena with criminals and animals. Tomorrow, you will close games. They is trying to get rid of you. Man who will not kill is not good sport," he added in a disgusted tone, and his lip curled as he turned back to the overseers.

"Oh," Hiccup almost sat down on his rear in shock.

"Steady, Smith-god," the Briton said quietly.

The two overseers sneered at Hiccup, before stalking away and leaving the gladiators and the new bestiarius to their own devices. The two were unarmed, their togas gleaming white and their heads cropped neatly. Hiccup looked up at the men lining the small dirty ring, their heads capped with steel and spears in their hands. Well, they could afford to be blasé, he guessed. There was no way for any of their prisoners to escape.

The Briton led him to a room where a huge pot in a strange-looking oven pumped clouds of steam into the air. A thick stew of grains and vegetables was served to him, and Hiccup looked at it dubiously. The Briton laughed.

"They feed gladiators only this. No meat," he said, letting some dribble back off his spoon into the bowl. "It makes… uh, energy, but not satisfy."

"I'll say," Hiccup looked down at it in bemusement. His diet had been a normal Norse one – plenty of fish and meat and very few vegetables, thanks to the whole 'under snow nine months of the year' thing. This insistence on stuff that grew on trees and from the ground was a little weird to him. He slurped at it tentatively. It was okay, but not a patch on a fish stew.

"I need to learn Latin," he said abruptly, and looked up at the Briton. "Is it hard?"

The Briton stopped his spoon halfway to his mouth, eyes wide, and then threw his head back and laughed heartily, causing others in the room to look over. "Ah, small man," he sighed, shaking his head. "Yes, Latin is very hard."

"Why does that not surprise me?" grumbled Hiccup. "It's not like anything on this trip has been _easy_."

The Briton chuckled. "Easy is not always good."

"You're saying Latin is good?" Hiccup raised an eyebrow, and the Briton snorted.

"No, that is just hard."

He leaned forward and said very clearly, "Ave."

Hiccup wrinkled his nose. "Ave?" he repeated.

"Means hello," the Briton nodded. "Vale means goodbye."

"Vale," Hiccup said, wishing he had a sketchbook. "Ave, Vale," he repeated.

"That is easy part," the Briton smirked. "Now it become _hard_."

Twenty minutes later, Hiccup had mastered some basic greetings, and the Briton was impressed at how quick the boy's mind was. "Very clever small man," he said approvingly, and Hiccup beamed.

"Thanks, uh, I mean, 'gratias'," Hiccup said modestly. "Being clever isn't always good either," he added, thinking back to his early teenage years.

"Ah, a story?" the Briton leaned his chin on his hand. "Tell story. Is this about family dragon?"

"Your Norse is getting better," Hiccup congratulated him, and the Briton waved his other hand dismissively.

"My Norse better than your Latin," he said with a glint in his eye. "Tell story, and stop with other talking."

Hiccup looked around the crowded hall, and brightened as he remembered that no one could understand him anyway. "Okay, well, it sort of goes like this," he began, and launched into his tale. He didn't go into the same detail as he had at the Phlock Dragon Convocation, but kept it bare and to the point. The Briton's face grew steadily more astonished, and when Hiccup finished, he was looking positively gobsmacked.

"…and so me and my dragon friend killed the monster with speed and trickery, but it set fire to my dragon friend's fake – you know fake? Yeah, fake tail, and he lost control. I fell off, he caught my foot," he looked down at it with a resigned sigh, and looked back up to the Briton. "You know the rest."

"You are great small man," the Briton breathed. "You are like Gwion Bach, a hero."

"That is not true," came a harsh voice from behind him, and he turned to see the woman, Nemesis, scowling at him. "You lie."

"You speak Norse?" he said in surprise, and she seemed to check herself, before turning back to her plate.

"That is first time I have seen her speak," the Briton confided in a whisper. "I have only been here two week, but she does not speak at all in that time."

"Obviously the friendly type," Hiccup observed, turning back to his slop.

"You have a great story, one for bards," the Briton said after a moment's silence. "How did you be in Rome?"

Hiccup sighed and pushed at his food. "I was tricked," he said slowly. "A man who pretended to be a friend stole me away and paid pirates to take me here. He wants to train dragons for the Roman Army. He can do it too – I told him almost everything. I was such a trusting idiot."

"Mistakes," the Briton said distantly. "Ah, yes. I trusted friend once, and it led to this."

"What's your story?" Hiccup said curiously. "It's a long way from Britannia."

"It is further to your cold lands," the Briton said shortly. "My story is an old one. I fought against Roman invaders, I trusted friend, and she betrayed me. I am a prize, a thing to laugh at. The great King of…" he stopped and took a great swallow of his grain stew. "King of no place," he muttered around his mouthful.

"You're a king?" Hiccup blurted, and clapped his hands over his mouth. The Briton looked at him ruefully.

"No more," he said sadly. "My people, dead, my marry and small persons, dead. All scattered. Catuvellauni no more."

"I'm so sorry," Hiccup whispered, and put his hand on the thick, blue-whorled forearm. The Briton looked at it for a long moment, and then patted it twice.

"Badb turned her face from me, and the Tuatha de Danann are not of this hot place," he said quietly. "I will die here."

Hiccup looked down at his hand. "The gods of my people aren't here either," he said just as quietly. "I'm afraid of dying. Odin won't know where to find me. Tyr will sound his horn, and the Einherjar will have to go on without me."

"This is how it is," the Briton patted his hand once more, before picking up his spoon again and gesturing at Hiccup's face. "You have seen that gate, hmm?"

Hiccup's hand flew to his face, feeling the lines of his scars. "Oh," he said then. "Yeah, I suppose."

"First time is hardest," the Briton said sagely. "You, that is from dragon friend?"

"Nope, that was…" Hiccup squirmed. "That was sort of a duel. I was pushed into it. Really, _not_ my thing."

"But you win!" the Briton said with a pound of the table, which made Hiccup jump.

"Yeah… but how did you know that?" Hiccup rubbed at the little line over the bridge of his nose. Astrid's mark, stitched right into his skin.

The Briton gave him a withering look. "Not so clever small man," he said derisively. "Still living?"

"Oh," Hiccup's customary embarrassment flooded his face. He rather welcomed it – anything to make this situation feel _normal_. After all, he was sitting with a king eating slop on what could be the last day of his life. In _Rome_. "Yeah, I won."

"Your marry teach you," the Briton mused. "For duel?"

"Wife," Hiccup corrected, and the man 'ahhh'ed in realisation. "Yeah, but we weren't married then."

"You have small persons?"

"I think you mean kids," Hiccup said dryly, "not that I like being called a kid all the time. No, not yet. Someday."

"This is sad," the Briton looked at him sympathetically. "Keeds are good to have."

At that moment, one of the dark-skinned men sat down by Hiccup, and stared penetratingly into his face.

Hiccup stifled an 'eep.'

"This is Gigantes," the Briton said evenly. "He is net-man, a Retiarius. He is from Phazania (1)."

"Ave," said Hiccup politely, leaning back a little from the man's piercing dark eyes.

"Ave," the man said in a smooth voice, his startlingly white teeth flashing into a smile. Then he gabbled too fast for Hiccup to follow, and he looked over at the Briton helplessly.

"He says he sees you fight, and you surprise him. He think you dead before, now he is not sure. He is interested in surprising kid. He wishes to be friends."

Hiccup blinked. "Uh, okay?" he looked back at Gigantes, and smiled. "Sure."

Gigantes grinned some more, and smacked Hiccup on the back. "Gratias, gratias, Vulcan," he said jovially.

Hiccup turned back to the Briton as Gigantes sauntered away. "Hey, Briton? Tell me I didn't just allow some crazy maniac to slap my back?" he asked.

"Gigantes is good man," the Briton allowed. "I will tell you who are dangerous. Over there, Polyphemus. He is the Gaul with one eye. He is gladiator, a myrmillonis." He nodded to where the hulking man sat alone over his bowl, his scarred face sullen and his grizzled head swaying slightly as he eyed each person in the hall suspiciously. Hiccup turned away with a gulp.

"Right," he said in a small voice.

"Mercury is small net-fighter," the Briton continued, indicating a wiry fellow with balding colourless hair and shrewd blue eyes. "Very popular with crowd. He is thief." He nodded meaningfully at Hiccup's pouch, and he grasped it nervously.

"Is it safe there?" he asked.

"It is safe," the Briton replied heavily, "but to put under clothes, always. Last, stay from the Morae."

"The Morae?" Hiccup said, his brow creasing, and the Briton nodded, pointing out three lean, quick-looking men. Thracians, maybe.

"They will hurt you if you let," the Briton said darkly. "They will take small man's body and then kill him. They are evil men."

Hiccup shrank over his bowl, tearing his eyes away from the Morae. "Uh, what about her? Nemesis?"

The Briton raised an eyebrow. "She?"

"Well, is she dangerous?" Hiccup looked sidelong at the woman as she carried her bowl over to the large rectangular depression in the floor filled with water. Others shuffled out of her way hurriedly, though she didn't even turn her head.

"Very," the Briton smiled. "But she will not harm unless others harm first."

Hiccup turned back to his food and tried not to meet anyone's eyes for the rest of the meal.

* * *

After the mid-morning meal, they were lined up and separated. Hiccup looked worriedly over at where the Briton stood in a small group of five, his wild head and blue-painted face now a comfortingly familiar sight in this mad place. He was handed a spear and a weird helmet, and he struggled to hold both as well as his hammer. An overseer snapped his fingers in Hiccup's eyes, and he blinked.

The man said in slow Latin, "You – there." He pointed.

Hiccup nodded rapidly, and went to stand in the line indicated. He was standing with one of the huge Goths, the sullen, evil-faced Gaul, and the stony Nemesis. He looked up at the Goth beside him, feeling ridiculously small. He wasn't a short boy any more – it simply seemed that life would conspire to stand him next to someone taller.

"What is this line for?" he hissed at Nemesis, hoping she would unbend enough to answer him.

She ignored him, though her hands tightened around her axe.

The Goth looked down at him, and a cheerful, friendly grin creased his round face. He nodded to the doors, and Hiccup raised an eyebrow questioningly. The Goth indicated their small, four-person group, and pointed at the doors, then raised his hands menacingly and mimicked a roar.

Hiccup's terrified eyes snapped back to the door. "What? Now? I thought it was tomorrow?" he gasped.

"Games every afternoon for a week, in honour of the Imperial Triumph," Nemesis hissed at him, her voice devoid of feeling. "The Emperor watches tomorrow. They are testing you. See that you do not fail, boy."

_Oh Thor, Tyr and Odin,_ Hiccup thought in desperation.

The doors swung open.

There was an intense blast of _noise_, and he shied back from the heat radiating from the huge sandy arena before him. He was pushed through the door and it slammed behind him with an ominous noise. He looked back at it in rising panic, before blinking up at tier upon tier of shouting, screaming people. There was a purple-draped box set amid the crowd with grandly dressed men and women inside, including a small boy who looked rather miserable. Men, women and children were hooting and hollering, food was thrown into the ring, and Hiccup noticed with a sick feeling a man dressed as a messenger scooping bodies onto a cart.

"Those are the condemned criminals," Nemesis said flatly, and he gulped. "First act's over. They are putting you in with more experienced fighters to ensure that the audience still gets their show."

Hiccup's mouth was dry, and he clenched his fist tightly around his hammer.

"Good luck, Vulcan," she said unemotionally as another gate on the far side of the arena opened.

"So. Something crazy," Hiccup whispered to himself as a roar sounded through the ring.

A sinuous scaled leg snaked out of the cage, flecked green and black, and a dragon followed it, its coppery eyes slitting in the bright sunlight. Hiccup's own eyes widened.

_Dragons! Oh, thank Odin it was dragons!_

It was a kind that Hiccup had never seen before. It had batlike wings, almost like Toothless', but it had a pronged hook at the tip and ragged, almost feathered edges. A massive tear ran up both wings, and Hiccup realised with horror that the Romans had done that. Its tail fins were equally feathered, and equally torn. This dragon couldn't fly.

It had wide, beautiful copper eyes, and a crest rippled back from the crown of its head, strangely feathered like the rest of it. Battered green and black scales covered its body, and its fire bloomed an orange-red as it billowed towards – Gods!

Hiccup ran towards one side of the arena, ducking under the tongues of flame and throwing down the spear. He reluctantly dropped his hammer as well, and chucked the stupid helmet after it. His hair had come out of its tie and was probably everywhere, but that was the very last thing on his mind as he began the slow, careful walk up to the dragon, his hands outstretched, empty.

"What are you doing, you fool!" he heard Nemesis shout, and he turned to her, a warning finger raised.

"Don't yell at her," he said firmly. "She's afraid, hungry, and tired, and there's more than enough noise around here already."

Nemesis stared at him. "It was the truth?" she said hoarsely, and the other two gladiators were shocked to see the first expression in years cross her face.

"It was," said Hiccup grimly. "I can get us all out of here alive if you can keep those two off my back."

She stared a minute longer, before turning to the Goth and the one-eyed Gaul, muttering rapidly. Their faces went from shocked to incredulous. Hiccup nodded to them, and looked back at the circling dragon.

She was confused by Hiccup's behaviour. He wasn't charging, like all the other humans who had been in the ring with her. Neither did he yell, or carry a weapon. She danced on her sinuous forepaws, her eyes flickering from slits of aggression to pearls of hope.

"Easy," Hiccup said gently, and she snorted skittishly. "Easy, girl. Not going to hurt you."

She balked a little as Hiccup came closer to her face, and tossed her crest warningly. Hiccup turned his own face away, baring his neck and allowing her to assume dominance. She huffed and then crooned querulously, settling down somewhat now that draconic dignity had been preserved.

"Easy," Hiccup whispered again, and reached out a hand for her to smell.

She bared her teeth and growled at it at first, but as Hiccup remained frozen, head averted and hand outstretched, she soon abated. Cautiously, the feathered dragon extended her neck and sniffed at his hand. He knew she would smell no blood or anger, just his calm overlaid with the remains of his panic and fear.

Carefully and slowly, giving her plenty of time to see it coming, he laid the hand the side of her head and began to scratch gently.

She crooned again, this time a noise of utter delight, and pushed her head back against the scratch. Hiccup laughed softly, and put both hands into it, scratching harder into the ragged, lace-like scales. "Hey there," he murmured, "you're a nice girl, aren't you? Who's a nice girl? You need some honey ointment, wouldja just look at these scales. Maybe you're supposed to be all feathery, but I bet you're not supposed to be this dull. Aaaand, how's this one work on you then…?" he scratched under her chin, and she dropped to the floor in a swoon of contentment.

Hiccup patted her soft green and black head, and thought how nice it was to touch a dragon again.

Then he became aware of the absolute silence surrounding him. His eyes flicked up to see every mouth in the tiers hanging open. He looked over his shoulder to where Nemesis was frozen, her hands restraining the equally frozen Goth and Polyphemus.

He straightened slowly to avoid freaking out the somnolent dragon, and bowed mockingly up at the purple-draped box high in the crowd. Then he raised his finger to his lips, pointing to the dragon, and a titter ran through the audience.

He patted the dragon's head once more, and looked balefully at her cut wings and tailfins. Poor girl. Then he sat down on the sandy floor by her dozing head, and let his hand rest on her feathered crest, his head tilted back, enjoying the sunlight.

That was how the handlers found them when they came to drag them back to the stables amid the growing cheers and cries of the spectators.

* * *

(1) Fezzan, an historic region of northern Africa, part of Libya.

_NB: Construction on the Flavian Amphitheatre, or Colosseum, did not commence until 72AD and completed in 80AD. Its predecessor was the Octavian Amphitheatre.  
__  
_


	10. Chapter 10

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

My gorgeous reviewers. Thank you all soooooooooooo very, very much! (And Ze Great Camicazi, I'm just making the dragons up, actually!)

* * *

The games would begin for the day soon, and Hiccup had slept very poorly. He'd taken turns with the Briton to stay awake and guard, and the Morae had whispered obscene and frightening things in the darkness. Hiccup shuddered. Those three Thracians frightened him more than the Queen Dragon had.

The huge, genial Goth, whose moniker Hiccup had discovered was Atlas, had excitedly told their barrack all about Hiccup's encounter with the feathered dragon. As a result, he was now looked upon with either deep hostility or a smattering of awe. Hiccup wasn't a fan of either. The first was sort of new to him, and he'd had it up to his eyeballs with the second after the encounter at the dragon's nest.

They were herded back into the sandy practice yard outside the main arena to await the opening of the games. A fanfare made Hiccup jump, and the Briton smiled down at him wryly.

"This is the Emperor's music. He watches the games in the cloth box today, with his family."

Hiccup nodded dumbly. It meant little to him who was going to be watching him fight animals surrounded by criminals. He hoped it was a dragon again. Oh gods, he hoped it was a dragon.

Little by little, the group waiting in the antechamber depleted as the gladiators went inside the arena to participate in the barbaric slaughter. Hiccup felt sickened, watching the Briton shoulder his huge sword and walk with kingly dignity into the sandy circle before the doors slammed shut. Thankfully, he returned. Many did not, including the dark-skinned Gigantes with the startingly white smile. Hiccup closed his eyes as his mauled body was brought past on the messenger's cart.

Finally, he was alone in the practice square. The handlers gave him a superior little sneer as they opened the gates for him, and he walked as bravely as he could into the blood-flecked expanse, the sun's heat radiating from the sand. He looked up into the Imperial box, unhooking his hammer. The Briton had said it was customary to bow and pledge to the Imperial family, but Hiccup had no intention of doing such a thing.

The man in the purple toga surprised him. He didn't look much like an Emperor. He looked like a tired man just passing middle-age, his curly head a steely grey and his face deeply lined with care. He met Hiccup's eyes, and a certain acknowledgement of their circumstances passed between them. Hiccup, despite himself, inclined his head. The Emperor didn't really want to be one, he could see. He was as trapped as Hiccup, except his cell was gilded.

Beside the older man was a woman with a face that might have been beautiful, except there was a harsh sneer in the corner of her mouth and her eyes were as hard as steel. She was a dangerous lady, Hiccup sensed, and nodded to her as well. There was no sense of fellow-feeling with her as with the Emperor, and she curled her lip as she regarded him. Hiccup felt the need to retreat.

Either side of the pair were two young boys and a little girl of maybe six. The elder boy had a soft, petulant face, a pair of indulgent, rather pretty eyes and a weak chin. The younger boy was around nine or ten and had a practical looking brow and an unhappy expression as he held the little girl. Hiccup felt for him. A boy that young should not look so unhappy. He ignored the sulky-looking elder boy, and nodded to the younger. A whisper ran through the crowd, and the dangerous-looking woman half-stood in outrage. Hiccup raised his hammer and turned to face the opening gate.

The condemned were led through it, still chained and shackled together, their eyes hopeless and furious and desperate. Hiccup wished he could speak to them, but he tried to convey reassurance through his eyes.

The audience began to roar and whoop as the heavy iron gate of the animal pen opened. Hiccup was relieved to see his friend from yesterday emerge, the feathered dragon sniffing curiously at the air and her eyes widening in recognition. He dropped his hammer and raised his hand to her, and she whinnied in delight and pranced to him, her head dipping eagerly. He scratched at her ragged crest. "Hey girl," he said softly. "Glad to see you too."

But it seemed that wasn't all that was in store for him. The gate remained open, and two other dragons emerged. One was Nightmare-like, with a scarlet serpentine body and a horned head. Hiccup tensed immediately. Nightmares tended to be skittish and nervous, and he really hoped that this one didn't set itself on fire as a defensive measure the way the ones back home did.

The other was _enormous_, easily twice the size of the Nightmare-like dragon. Its head was surmounted by a crown of horns, and its body was a rusty bronze. It had a catlike face and brilliant golden eyes. Both the dragons also had the same long tears running along their wings and tailfins, crippling their flight.

"Oh boy," Hiccup said under his breath. "This could prove a bit more challenging."

The condemned prisoners stood petrified in fear, rattling the chains. The crowd screamed its approval as the Nightmare-like dragon swooped upon two of them and summarily tore them apart. Hiccup averted his eyes. How horrible.

His feathered friend had moved to stand protectively before him, her growl of warning deepening as the huge bronze dragon crept closer. Hiccup noted with horror the huge gash along the dragon's side. The poor thing was almost mad with pain and starvation, and he would have bet that infection had set in. As the Nightmare swooped upon more of the hapless criminals, Hiccup patted Feather's side comfortingly. "Let me, sweetheart," he murmured, and she grumbled as she shifted reluctantly to one side.

The great dragon's golden eyes were incandescent with pain as Hiccup began the same slow, careful walk towards its head. The crowd shrieked its disapproval as he made his painstaking way inch by inch to stand before it, a tall slim figure before a mountain. The dragon twitched in pain and disbelief, its expression clearly suspicious, as Hiccup extended his hand slowly.

Feather crooned querulously and nudged Hiccup's back, and he shushed her gently. The bronze dragon flinched like a dog that has been beaten once and fully expects it again. Hiccup pitched his voice as low and soothing as possible.

"Hey big guy," he said softly. "You poor thing. Look at your poor side. Someone took a stab at you and no mistake. I'm not like that, promise. I'm a friend, you can trust me. Smell, go on. I'm not an enemy. I don't want to hurt you. It's okay, big fella. It's okay."

Hiccup turned his head away and let the dragon snuffle cautiously at his hand. The dragon growled in the back of his throat, and Hiccup felt his insides knot with fear. Had this dragon been treated so horribly that he could never trust a human again? For the first time since he was fourteen, Hiccup felt truly in danger from a dragon.

Feather made a sweet noise of affection and pushed her snout against the bronze dragon's head. The huge beast snorted in irritation, and Hiccup felt a wild stab of hope. Finally scales pressed tentatively under his palm, and he raised his head to see the giant dragon's eyes less than a thought away, their golden depths full of fear. He scratched at the warshield-sized scales and the dragon lidded his eyes in bliss.

"Good fella," Hiccup breathed. "Good boy."

A whistling shriek behind him alerted him to the presence of the arena's _other_ scaled occupant, and Hiccup resisted the urge to whirl and face the Nightmare-like dragon. He continued to scratch gently at the giant bronze cheek, his other hand reaching to pat over his massive horned crown. "There's always someone who has to crash the party isn't there, big fella?" he said wryly to the bronze dragon, who opened his massive eyes and looked at him with awed longing.

The Nightmare-like dragon had corralled the remaining prisoners into the narrow end of the oval below the Imperial box, and was stalking them with dreadful intensity. Hiccup gave Big Fella one last pat, and turned to see the remains of four, maybe five men scattered over the arena floor. He retched.

Feather whickered in concern, and Big Fella looked on with surprise as Hiccup mastered his rebelling stomach. Swallowing hard, he started to walk to where the scarlet beast was hissing at the criminals. The two dragons began to follow him, but he held up a hand to stop them.

"Sorry, guys," he said regretfully. "She might get spooked, and then we're all in trouble."

The Big Fella snorted in reluctance but hung back. Feather growled and shook her crest in angry denial, her elegant forepaws scrabbling at the sand. Hiccup gave her eyeridge a comforting rub. "Sorry, girl," he said apologetically. "You just keep an eye on me, all right?"

She growled some more, but there were overtones of acceptance. Hiccup rubbed her eyeridge again, and squared his shoulders, turning to the snake-like dragon. "Here goes," he said nervously. "Want to bet I can't get three for three?"

Surprisingly, the Nightmare-like dragon had turned from her possible lunch to stare penetratingly at Hiccup and his scaled entourage. Her long, sinuous neck waved from side to side as he approached, and he swallowed as she closed the remaining distance with a predatory prowl. He raised his hand carefully, and turned his head. Closing his eyes, he prayed he hadn't made a really, really big mistake.

Nothing happened.

When Hiccup opened his eyes, the Nightmare-like dragon had rolled onto her back and was baring her belly, her eyes pleading. Hiccup laughed in hysterical relief, and began to scratch. Scarlet rolled like a puppy, her head writhing in ecstasy. He babbled comforting nothings to her, wishing he had some kittygrass. That'd really make her wriggle.

When he stood, Feather rubbed her head affectionately along his shoulder and the Big Fella was purring at him in adoration. Scarlet had curled at his feet, her pupils wide with happiness. He smiled fondly at them, rubbing the Big Fella's head. "You guys aren't so bad, are you?" he murmured.

When he glanced up to the Imperial Box, the Emperor was slack-jawed in shock, and the woman and the older boy had calculating expressions on their faces.

But the little boy and his sister were beaming.

* * *

"How do you do that?"

Hiccup raised his head from his pillow to glare at the Briton. "It can't be time yet. I only just put my head down! Can't an enslaved dragon-tamer for public entertainment get any sleep around here?"

"Was not me," the Briton shrugged, and then looked pointedly over to Hiccup's other side. He rolled awkwardly (over the metal shape of his leg under his covers, which would really bruise) to look groggily into the face of Nemesis.

"Oh, hi… uh, Nemesis," he struggled to sit up.

"You tame them," she whispered, her hand fidgeting with the silky edge of her war-axe. "That is incredible. You are a Viking, aren't you?"

Hiccup's face twisted. "Uh, yeah. I mean, that's where I'm from. It's a little village, called-"

"So you're not a Viking?" she interrupted, and he sighed.

"No, I am," he said reluctantly. "And my wife would punch me if she heard me saying this, but I've never really been a good one. A lot of what I've achieved was through luck and good timing and the help of others…"

"And bravery," she said firmly. "No Viking I have ever known would think to walk calmly up to one, unarmed, and offer his bare hand. That is tantamount to suicide, where I come from. None would ever think it. And yet, you did. You have taught people another way, a better way. Not all people like change. That is exceptional courage."

Hiccup ducked his head, abashed, and he could feel the hot blush spreading up his neck to his ears. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"She speaks truth, Smith-god," the Briton said quietly. "I try to tell you, this is story for bards and minstrels. You are great man."

"You can stop now," Hiccup squirmed in pleased embarrassment. Nemesis's lips quirked, and Hiccup blinked at the unexpectedly quizzical expression on her face.

"I can see why your wife would punch you," she said, the lilt of amusement in her voice. "You seem young to be married, Vulcan. Are you even grown?"

"As much as I'll ever be, except sideways," Hiccup said ruefully. "I mean, get a load of this Viking physique."

Her eyebrows rose. "You _are_ quite thin for a Viking man."

"Don't know why, my dad looks like he was _built_, not born," Hiccup shrugged. "But yeah, I'm just eighteen. Married what… seven months now. Four of those I've spent away from her. Not my idea of a good time."

"Only eighteen, and only three months," Nemesis murmured, and there was a tiny smattering of something vastly sorrowful in her face. "I am sorry. It was a love match, then?"

Hiccup found the lump in his throat prevented him from answering her, so he simply nodded. She sighed, and then diplomatically changed the subject.

"So… when I overheard your tale, you said you tamed a rare dragon. Which was it?"

Hiccup grinned at her. "A Night Fury."

She actually gasped in amazement, and Hiccup was astonished at how much younger she seemed when her face was not set into its usual stony, bitter lines. "That is impossible. Night Furies cannot be caught."

Hiccup fumbled at his throat and pulled the two scales from his pouch. "There," he said triumphantly, "Proof positive. That's a Night Fury scale."

She picked up the pair of scales tied with red threat and touched the black one wonderingly. "They are black, then?" she asked in awe.

"They're black with green eyes," Hiccup confirmed. "Hang on… if you can pass me – thanks – here…" and he drew a quick sketch of Toothless with the tip of the Briton's dagger on the dusty floor of the barrack. "Fins here… although my friend only has one. Wingspan is fairly standard, but they have these smaller secondary wings by the tail, under the main wings, and that's what gives them the ability to be so crazily nimble in the air. The forelegs are heavily scaled and kinda blocky, and they have a sort of frill at their ears. Head is sorta triangular and blunt. Very, very agile body. And they can retract their teeth into their gums – thus, Toothless."

She shook her head, eyeing the dusty portrait. "And his expression? This is… almost human. He looks curious."

"They're pretty close to having human intelligence," Hiccup agreed. "Different kind, but they're smart enough. And yeah, Night Furies _are_ curious. I've lost track of how many experiments he's ruined because he stuck his big black head into them before I was done. He thinks every bucket in the whole village should be full of fish just for him."

She snorted, and then unbelievably, the corners of her mouth turned up a little. "A good friend, though," she said questioningly, and Hiccup paused.

"My best friend," he said plainly. "My best friend in the world."

She raised an eyebrow. "And your wife?"

"Is herself," he said, folding his arms. "If she wasn't, I wouldn't love her. She's my wife. He's my best friend. It's not like they're mutually exclusive."

"This is a Nadder-scale," she said, tapping the blue one thoughtfully. "Do you also keep a Nadder?"

"Spike," Hiccup confirmed. "She's my wife's dragon. Vain, finicky thing who roosts up on the roof like a rainbow chicken. She even squawks at dawn. I think she has serious identity issues, but my wife says I just don't understand her. Which is totally fine by me – I mean, do you even want to understand a dragon who thinks she's a chicken?"

Nemesis actually chuckled, and the Briton laughed his deep, booming laugh.

"You are Viking, then?" asked the Briton, and Nemesis glared at him.

"I am nothing now, just a slave. Just Nemesis," she growled, tossing the scales onto the blanket and stalking away. Hiccup watched as the night gloom swallowed her.

"I wonder why she wanted to talk to me?" he said, puzzled, and the Briton shrugged.

"You do not… what is the word? You make yourself to be not great in your mind. You are, you know. Maybe she wishes to find out for herself your greatness. Maybe she wishes to talk the language of home. Maybe you remind her of a place she can never return to. Many reasons, perhaps."

Hiccup hmm'd noncommittally, before slipping the scales back into the pouch and pulling the blanket back up. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Smith-god. I wake you at second hour over midnight."

"Your Norse is getting really good," Hiccup said blurrily, and dropped into a deep sleep.

* * *

It was slow, slow going through the strait.

Toothless watched the currents unblinkingly. His huge green eyes were locked to the foamy spray before the ship, his head swinging left to right occasionally. Astrid didn't think he was spotting fish. The horn of Hispania could be plainly seen, as could the tip of Mauritania (1). The water was moving fast against them, and was far saltier than the great ocean they had just left. (2) She could feel it tightening the skin of her face where it hit.

Toothless indicated that they swing portside with the raising of an ear, and Stoick obediently leaned hard on the tiller. Thankfully there was a strong following wind, as Astrid would have hated to be rowing through that white foam. Not that any would have allowed her to row, of course.

It was kind of a relief, having the Tiny Haddock common knowledge. She no longer had to hide her eating, or her occasional fits of sleeping or insomnia. Phlegma was a huge help, and Astrid was secretly ashamed that her stubbornness had almost alienated the woman, not that she'd ever admit it. The initial shock of the others had calmed down over the past week, though Gobber's enthusiasm was undeterred and was quickly growing embarrassing. There were a still few lingering reactions however that made Astrid irritated over the whole business.

Snotlout had simply dismissed it, unless he was trying to make a joke about sex. Tuffnut was sulky about the whole thing. Ruff was plainly fascinated, and Astrid had caught her staring at her belly more than once, a speculative look on her face. Fishlegs still couldn't refer to it without mumbling and turning beet-red.

The adults weren't any exception. Stoick was clearly still turning to emotional putty every time he looked at her, and Gobber was no better. Spitelout was gruff and obviously jealous that _he_ wasn't an incipient grandfather like Stoick. Hensteeth Ingerman was treating her like polished amber. Only Phlegma really spoke to her, and not to her belly. Which, incidently, _itched_.

There was a stretched itchy feeling across her lower abdomen now, and it was driving her bonkers. Phlegma had given her a smooth paste to spread on, but it didn't help all that much really. Astrid scratched at her belly absently as she sat by Toothless, watching him watch the waves. The lump hadn't grown over the last week, so she expected she was due a 'popping out' at any minute. She wasn't looking forward to it. The sunshine was a heavy hammer in her hair as she closed her eyes against the glare from the water.

It was a surprise to her when she found she had nodded off for a few hours, but then it always was. The unmerciful southern sun occasionally had a somnolent effect on her, and she had been leaning against Toothless as she dozed. He was still focused on the rippling foam before the ship, and she rubbed his head even as she rubbed her eyes. He rumbled at her in acknowledgement, but his gaze didn't falter from the water.

Astrid stretched lazily and cricked her stiffened neck, when something in the distance caught her eye. She frowned.

"Anything in the water ahead for a minute or so?" she asked Toothless, her eyes still fixed on the black dot.

He made a little descending hum, and then snorted a negative, his eyes unwavering. She pursed her lips suspiciously.

"Then could you take a look at that?" she pointed. "Is it a rock?"

His head remained still for a moment, before his great green eyes flicked up to the distant thing. He made the snort that meant _no_ again, and then scratched a forepaw on the bow's railing. She peered at the distant shape.

"A ship?" she asked, and he barked assent, his head tilting at her, before he refocused on the water. She scratched his head in thanks, and quickly strode to the stern to speak to Stoick.

"Ship in the distance," she said tersely, nodding to the slowly growing black dot. "They're going to pass us in this narrow strait. What do you think?"

Stoick's brow creased as he eyed it suspiciously. "Could be nothin'," he said darkly, "could be somethin'. Tell everyone to ready their weapons. Not you," he added sternly, and she bristled.

"I can still fight," she hissed, and his eyes blazed.

"Aye, but you're not goin' to."

"What if there's no choice?" she challenged. "There's not so many people on this ship that you can afford to lose a warrior. Look, Stoick, I'm _good_ at this. I'm not about to just _let_ someone hurt me. I'll be fine."

"No, Astrid," he gritted, and she clenched her fists.

"I'll be ready," she said angrily.

"Astrid-" Stoick began again, and then sighed. "You look after yourself, girl."

She snorted. "Of course."

His eyes dropped to the scrubbed deck, and he muttered, "It's just, well... you're the only one left."

Her jaw dropped.

"Um," she said, and then in a softer tone, "I'll be fine. Besides, we don't even know what it is."

"With our luck?" Stoick's jaw tightened, and she had to concede the point.

"Look, I promise. I'll be fine." She swallowed. "_We'll_ be fine."

His eyes flicked down to her belly and back to her. "You'd better be."

She nodded.

He sighed again, and his face turned toward the rapidly approaching ship. "They've got the tide on their side," he said in a level tone. "I'd say we have half an hour, maybe an hour. Get the others ready."

"Right," she said. "Right."

It didn't take very long to alert the others. The minute the possibility of a fight was raised, Gobber had responded with customary briskness. "Now, you lot," he said, sounding for all the world like their instructor again. "Time to give you a quick run-down on sea-fightin'. Whatever you do, don't swing on ropes. Clear target, plain as day. Looks impressive, I'll grant you, but swing the wrong way an' someone's got your leg off quicker than you can say 'rigging.' Which some bright spark will most likely climb. _Don't_. Your opponent will simply cut the sailropes, an' you'll fall straight to the deck, break your head, and to top that off you'll have no sails. Best thing is to allow them to take all the risks. Let _them_grapple the ship an' cut their grapples the minute they catch on the rails. Let _them_ swing across an' take them out as they do. Ruffnut, Tuffnut, you brought your bows? Good, though you need to wax the cord more often, Tuffnut. No good if this snaps in your face the minute you draw. You two need to take out as many of their incomings as possible. We put the bruisers mid-decks. That's me, Stoick, Spitelout, Phlegma, Fishlegs, an' _not you, Astrid_. No fire at all on deck – you don't want to give anyone any ideas! Got the idea? Now, then…"

Gobber took a deep breath. "Astrid, I want you with Toothless."

Astrid scowled. If she had to fight the whole ship to prove she could, then by Odin she _would_. "I can still-"

"This isn't about that," he snapped. "You connect wi' that dragon the best. Get him to fire the other ship while they're on ours. It's too bad we can't have him in the air, that'd be…"

"We could," she said suddenly, her eyes widening. "We could. I have his rig here." She looked expectantly at Gobber, who rolled his eyes.

"An' you know how to work it, do you?"

"Yes," she retorted. "I do. Hiccup showed me."

Gobber raised his eyebrow. "Oh? An' did he show you how to remove your foot so you can work that pedal?"

It was Astrid's turn to roll her eyes. "He replaced the pedal you made when he made his new foot. The new pedal can fit a normal foot as well as his. There's a strap you pull, and a toeguard that-"

Gobber pinched his nose, and closed his eyes. "Mimir give me patience," he groaned. "All right, try. No falling off the dragon, Astrid. An' no losing any babies, you hear me?"

"Oh, for the love of Thor!" she said in exasperation. "I'll be fine! I'd have thought you'd be _happy_ to get me away from the fighting on-deck!"

"You'd think," Gobber said dryly, "except the alternative is fifty feet in the air above a raging current on a dragon with stubbornness issues."

Astrid smiled a little. "He's a Viking's dragon, after all," she said, folding her arms.

Gobber made an irritated noise in his throat. "Right then, Astrid, you're up above. Don't show yourself until they're committed to the fight. Once they're on our ship, get Toothless to fire theirs. Keep hittin' it, lots of noise, keep 'em off balance. All right, you go kit him out. The rest of you are on deck, an' _keep down_. Ruff, Tuff, no hitting Astrid while she's in the air. Now get moving!" With that, he pulled off his hook and reached for the double-bladed axehead, clicking it into place.

Toothless had abandoned watching the currents and rocks, and was now eyeing the approaching ship warily. It was now recognisable as a longship, larger than theirs, its sides painted black and the eyes at its bow red and glaring. Astrid worried at her lip as she dumped the saddle and tailfin down by Toothless. The ship hadn't changed course – rather, it was bearing directly for them.

"Not reassuring," she muttered to the Night Fury, who purled in concern. His blunt head swung around, and his eyes widened at the sight of his equipment.

"Okay, Toothless," she said softly, taking his head in her hands and rubbing at one smooth, scaled cheek. "I'm not Hiccup, I know. I'm not going to be as good at this as he is. But we need to defend our ship. He showed me what to do once, and I think I can do it if you don't go too fast for me. Would you let me?"

He growled defensively, his massive expressive eyes betraying shock and hurt. She rubbed his head some more.

"I wouldn't ask, if it weren't for that," she indicated the fast-approaching ship. "_Please_, Toothless."

He looked down at his rig, and then bowed his head, his tail thumping once. "Oh thank you, thank you…" she breathed, and picked up the saddle. "Okay, this first."

It took almost twenty minutes to saddle Toothless correctly. He nosed uncomfortably at his rig, unused to it after so long without it. Astrid scratched under the saddle for him even as she scratched her own belly. "We look like we have lice," she said to him in an undertone, and he snorted loudly.

She pulled on Hiccup's leather flying tunic, and thanked Frigga that he had eventually grown taller than her, otherwise she'd have never fitted into it. As it was, it was tight around her stomach and loose at her shoulders. She looked wryly down at the crescent moon. "Thanks a bundle, kid," she muttered to it, and pulled herself up onto Toothless' broad back.

"We need to crouch," she whispered into his ear, which flicked. "We've got to hide until they're closer."

Toothless whined, and she scratched under the saddle again. "I know," she said sympathetically. "But we have to protect our ship. Or we're never going to get Hiccup back."

Toothless whined again, louder this time, and she leaned her forehead against the back of his smooth head. The Tiny Haddock pressed against the saddle uncomfortably. "Do you trust me, Toothless?" she said against his scales softly.

He huffed, and then gave a soft, grudging whuffle. She smiled.

The longship drew closer and closer. Gobber directed everyone down against the deck, and their motley crew silently dropped as low as they could. Stoick met Astrid's eyes from his place crouched at the stern of the ship, and his face paled at the sight of her on Toothless' back. She mouthed, "we'll be fine." He grimaced with reluctance, but nodded anyway.

As the black, dark-aspected ship drew alongside, ropes with heavy hooks snaked over its side and scraped along the Berkian longship's deck. Snotlout and Tuffnut immediately set to cutting through them with their daggers, their eyes tight and their movements absolutely silent. Fishlegs was cannier, and simply slashed through three or four with his axe, the whistle of its passing lost in the roar of the surf.

Shouts of anger and surprise could be heard from the other ship, and Gobber nodded grimly to the others. "Here they come," he said in a tight, low voice.

Large, burly men in a mixmatched assortment of armour swung over on ropes onto the Berkian longship, and Ruff and Tuff immediately loosed their arrows. One fell heavily to the deck with an arrow in his leg, shrieking, and another landed unmoving with an arrow in his eye. Ruffnut smirked at her brother, who pouted a bit and redrew his bow to aim at yet another man.

Gobber had slashed at the legs of one man, and though he hadn't lost the limb he was gravely wounded, blood seeping onto the deck. Others had reached the ship unharmed, and the Berkians sprang from their hiding places with roars of challenge. Another wave of attackers swung across, arrows zipping through the air towards them. Gobber immediately engaged one and began fighting in earnest, and Fishlegs was fighting another, concentration written all over his round, bearded face. Phlegma was stabbing with her spear as the men sailed through the air towards her, incapacitating and wounding them with sharp, savage jabs. Spitelout and Hensteeth were fighting together to bring down a huge man armed with a great longsword.

Stoick had entered the fray with a giant bellow, and he fought with furious abandon, heedless of his own safety. His hammer held in one hand and his axe in the other with the battle-madness touching his eyes, he looked like a frost giant, a god of war. "Go!" he shouted to Astrid, "go!"

"Okay, Toothless," she said, and she felt the huge muscles bunching under her. She pressed back the pedal into the position Hiccup had shown her for takeoff, and closed her eyes. "Let's go!"

He whipped into the air so fast it made her head snap back, and her eyes opened with a cry. The ships below receded rapidly, and she peered down at them. Toothless gave a hoarse bark, and she hurriedly pressed the pedal again. The tailfin flapped into the wrong configuration, and they fell some feet before she pushed her foot into the right angle.

Toothless growled under his breath, and she said, "sorry, sorry!" The wind whipped against her face and took her headcloth, the salt tang stinging her eyes. She swallowed and tried to remember which position to use for a dive.

Toothless was obviously enjoying being in the air once more. His wings had locked as they coasted over the two vessels, and he shook his head loosely in a shiver of pure pleasure. She rubbed his neck again and leaned over to his ear. "We need to dive! I'll give the countdown, and you fire their ship! Okay?"

With a snarl of readiness, Toothless' shoulders bunched, and Astrid began the count. "Three… two… dive!"

She pushed the pedal forward to the last setting, hoping she was right. It seemed that luck was on her side, as Toothless dropped gracefully into a screaming dive. She felt his lungs expand in readiness for his lightning-firebolt. "Go!" she yelled against the shrieking wind, and he spat out the ball of purplish death. Astrid felt his wings extending, and she pressed back with her heel instinctively. They span out of the dive near as neatly as Toothless did with Hiccup, and she pounded his back in gleeful congratulations. He warbled in agreement, and they circled the now-burning ship, watching the sailors scurrying in fear from the dragon above.

Those men still aboard were abandoning the flaming hulk, swimming for the Hispanic coast, and the eyes of those fighting on the Berkian ship were growing desperate as their fellows fell around them. As Toothless swooped over their heads, screaming his warning cry and firing yet again at the blazing black ship, Astrid felt a momentary flicker of pride in her village. There may not have been many of them, but they were a dangerous group. Eventually there were only three of the attackers still standing, and they dropped their weapons reluctantly as the ring of Berkians closed on them. Their eyes were wild and terrified as Toothless backwinged onto the deck, causing hair and clothes to ruffle and blow in the gusty draft.

"Surrender!" Stoick snarled, his axe dripping gore and pointed directly in the face of their leader, a man with close-cropped blond hair and a mouth full of crooked teeth.

"We have," the man rasped sarcastically. "Or didn't you notice?"

"Who are you, and why attack us?" demanded Phlegma.

Astrid clambered down from Toothless and drew her axe in readiness. "They're pirates," she said flatly. The blond man gave a mocking bow.

"At your service, lady," he said in his deep, gravely voice. "Regin the pirate an' what's left of the crew of the Redbird."

"Regin!" Gobber said in surprise, and turned to Stoick. "So this is the one…?"

"You stole my son," Stoick said in a dreadfully quiet voice.

"Ah, so you're the boy's father?" Regin chuckled. "Should have guessed when I saw that devil lizard in the sky. Aye, I had the boy. But it weren't my plan, t'was just a job."

"Alvin," grated Astrid, and pushed her axe into the pirate chieftain's face. "You were working for Alvin the Treacherous."

"Aye," he regarded her with some amusement. "An' you must be the lad's wife. Mentioned you, he did. Didn't say you were gravid, though – ah," he nodded in realisation, a snaggle-toothed smirk spreading over his face. "He doesn't know, does he?"

"Shut up," Astrid snapped, jerking her axe closer. "You took him to Ostia. Where?"

"He's been sold into slavery, lady." Regin seemed highly amused at the reaction this received. Astrid's face paled, and Stoick's mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. "Aye, your precious hero's a slave now. In a fine state, last I saw him. Drugged out of his mind, filthy as a bilge-hold, an' sprawled on the floor of the richest slave trader in Rome, a nasty piece of work, an' his bodyguard's as mad as a badger. He'll be dead by now, no doubt. I overheard 'em telling Alvin that they were to put him in the stables."

"Stables?" Fishlegs asked hesitantly, and the man's grin grew.

"Aye," he sneered. "The stables for the arena. They kill men by the dozens there, every day. An' games are bein' held for the Imperial triumph over Britannia, so the festivities have doubled. I wager the boy didn't last ten minutes."

Astrid felt the knot in her throat travel to her stomach, where it _froze_. Her grief began to rise, but she squashed it implacably. "Kill him," she said flatly.

As Stoick began to raise his axe for a killing blow, one of the other two survivors darted for the rail. "Ruff!" Astrid barked, and Ruffnut nodded tersely. She nocked an arrow to her bow and it hit the man solidly between his shoulderblades. He gave a startled shriek and toppled over the rail - and Regin took advantage of their distraction to grab Astrid's arm and yank her close, bringing her own blade up against her throat. She cried out in outrage.

"Astrid!" Stoick shouted in horror, and the others tensed, their eyes wary and their limbs completely still.

"Let me go," she hissed, and the man chuckled again, her axeblade scraping her neck. Astrid gritted her teeth. _Hiccup_had always sharpened that blade for her. He'd replaced the handle. He'd maintained it for her with the total devotion he always displayed towards anything to do with her. How _dare_ this filthy mercenary even _touch_ it.

"No can do, little lady," Regin was rasping into her ear. "Now, I suggest you come along quietly an' show me where your longboat is stowed, or that baby of yours might meet with a little… accident…" and the blade traced obscenely over the curves of her chest to rest threateningly on her stomach.

Astrid saw red.

With a howl of fury, she bit down hard on the pirate's bare, suntanned upper arm, and he swore loudly as she span out of his momentarily lax grip. Her fist connected with his eye and her other with his mouth, and as he reeled she snatched her axe back and smoothly buried it in his stomach.

He choked, eyes wide, his body bent over the blade. Astrid yanked his hair back and spat into his face.

"The slave trader's name," she whispered into his pain-filled eyes, "and I make this quick."

He gasped and wheezed, his throat working furiously, before he managed to whisper back, "…Ba… Balbus…"

She nodded, blue eyes glittering like steel. "Thank you."

She pressed her knee against his chest, pulled her axe free, and slashed it across the man's throat. His mouth worked uselessly for a moment, blue eyes staring right through her before rolling into his head. Then he hit the deck face-first, dead.

Astrid span her blade in a practised arc to flick the blood from it, and turned to face Stoick. He hesitated for a moment, before enfolding her in a shaking, fatherly embrace. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She patted his huge arms. "I told you we'd be fine," she murmured back, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Aye, you did," he said under his breath, and pulled back reluctantly. "You did."

She felt along her neck and discovered a small gash that was dripping blood down her shirt. "Phlegma, do we have…"

Ruffnut held out a damp cloth from where she sat, tending her brother who had caught a swipe along his upper arm. "Here," she said absently and turned back to Tuffnut. He for once was not moaning, but sat white-faced as she wound a bandage around it.

"Is anyone else hurt?" Astrid said briskly, but suppressed emotion was creeping up on her. She could feel it in the wobbling of her knees.

Hensteeth had received a nasty concussion, but would be fine. Apart from that, she and Tuffnut were the only ones injured. Gobber and Stoick quickly threw the remains of the pirates overboard, as Spitelout tied the final survivor to the mast. Astrid rubbed at her neck even as her vision swam a little. Just as she was about to crumble to the deck in delayed reaction, a warm presence at her back supported her and she turned to see Toothless propping her up.

"Oh Toothless, you were amazing," she said in a shaky voice, before pulling his large head close and holding it tight. The dragon crooned and whirred in concern as she began to tremble, far more violently than Stoick had.

Regin had threatened her baby. For the first time, she was forced to acknowledge how much she wanted this child, how much she already loved it. She would kill for it. In fact, she just had. It was more, so much more than the weight gain and sickness and itchiness and sleep pattern madness. She wanted their baby so much she could feel the ache in her teeth.

She refused to believe the pirate's assertion that Hiccup was dead. He was _alive_, she knew it, she just knew it. She would know if it were otherwise. She wasn't going to raise the Tiny Haddock alone. He was alive and she would find him and after she'd punched him, they were all going home to be a family.

Toothless purred and cooed as she held him close. Astrid shook and shook, her eyes screwed closed and her teeth gritted in a silent snarl. No tears fell, but her hand pressed against the dome of her belly and tightened protectively.

* * *

(1) Morocco.  
(2) The Mediterranean has far higher salinity levels than the Atlantic, and is subject to huge internal tides spilling out from the sea into to the ocean through the Strait of Gibraltar.


	11. Chapter 11

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Hey, all you reviewers? YOU ALL ROCK.

**Lady Khaldz, Voldyne & Ze Great Camicazi: ** Thank you so much, guys! I'm so happy you're still enjoying it and are sticking with it! **Foxy's Girl: **You should be safe with that one! ;D **4ever2010: **I know, getting close! \o/ **OmarBarria:** Eventually, I promise! **Strider714: **Oh my, thank you so much! *blush* **Leon Woon: **I do love my obsessive details! Studying for a story has never really felt like a chore. Thank you soooo much!

*deep breath* Here we go!

* * *

It was the last day of the Triumph, and Hiccup was feeling far more confident about the whole situation, though he was certainly no happier. There were still problems in the barracks. The Morae still whispered at night and the pinch-faced thieving retiarius, Mercury, had tried to cut the strings on his pouch as they waited for the morning meal. Hiccup had been furious and swung his hammer without thinking. His precision with the weapon was still unmatched, and he ended up breaking the small man's arm in a trice. Since then, some of the more overt hostility towards him had eased.

Nemesis had not tried to talk to him again, though he had felt her eyes on him several times. She watched him with a sad, thoughtful expression when she thought no one was watching. Hiccup wondered what her story was, but knew better than to try and seek her out.

The Briton had become more and more withdrawn as the end of the Triumphal week neared. Hiccup was worried about him. He had taught Hiccup more Latin, but his mind seemed distracted, a million miles away.

He had become quite the draw-card of the games. The crowd had learned his alias, and he was greeted with a slowly increasing chant of 'Vul-can, Vul-can, Vul-can…!" each time he was pushed into the arena. He had only ever faced dragons, though it seemed that they were running out of varieties to throw at him. There were more each day, though always the same individuals. Feather utterly adored him now, and the Big Fella had turned out to have a surprisingly sweet and docile personality under that veneer of pain and suspicion. The last time he'd been in the arena, Hiccup had actually brought in bandages that Atlas had given him for the bronze dragon's injured side. The audiences were astonished and appreciative of each new dragon tamed, and cheered uproariously whenever he managed to get one to perform a trick or two. Scarlet had proven to be excellent at standing and half-walking on her hind legs, her tail balancing her delicately. He'd even gotten her to set herself alight a couple of times. Feather was better at fire-tricks in general, though, sending flowers of flame into the air. The Big Fella didn't breathe fire, but smoke, which he could blow in rings or in great billows.

In addition to his initial three, next they had introduced a squat dragon with a bullish head and violently orange hide, which although fearsome-looking was in fact slightly overenthusiastic and clumsy. Then it was an astonishingly beautiful swanlike dragon, his white body incredibly flexible, who was even vainer than a Nadder. Next was a pair of strange, segmented, long-bodied dragons with frilled heads and wide eyes and mouths. They were refined and dignified, with long whisker-like fronds over their mouths. Hiccup had found that they loved to dance, and he would get the crowds to clap with him as they crossed and crisscrossed the sandy floor. He had named them Clumsy, Handsome, and the Twins.

Finally, there was Sulky. She was an old dragon, her muzzle greyed and her eyes stained with white. Her body was a brilliant blue, and Hiccup wondered whether she was an amphibious species, as her feet were slightly webbed. She did not breathe fire, but he would have sworn she could spit boiling water the way Fishlegs had once described. She had not attacked, but she didn't join in at all. Hiccup kept trying though – he was worried that the handlers would simply kill her if she didn't put on a show. She had a coughing, rasping roar and she shied away constantly from the noise and light. Hiccup wished fervently that he could spare her the heat. If he was right about her being a water-dragon, the blisteringly hot sand and screaming crowds would be unbearable for her.

The Emperor had not attended the games since the second day, though Hiccup had heard that he was expected again that very morning. The dangerous-looking woman and the indulgent-looking older boy had attended several times, but Hiccup had ignored them. It made the woman close to apoplectic, though the teen didn't seem all that affected. He had simply waved for more fruits or wine or whatever to the harried slave beside him.

The nine-year old boy had attended every day, not always with his sister. Hiccup always gravely saluted him, and the little boy had taken to raising his hand in response. His sister generally had her face hidden when Hiccup emerged, and whipped it around to stare and blush at him. Hiccup would wink at her, and she would giggle and bury her face back into her brother's shoulder. Hiccup liked her; she was sweet, and untouched by the worries that plagued her big brother.

Hiccup woke the Briton at dawn. "Last one," he said in mangled Latin, and the Briton smiled briefly.

"You are getting better," he congratulated. Hiccup concentrated like mad to make out all the conjugations.

"I will be hoping," he said with a grin, and the Briton shook his head.

"I hope," he corrected, and with a chuckle switched back to Norse. "You have done well. It is a good thing you are clever."

"And you'd fit in back at home, now," Hiccup congratulated him. "Except for, y'know, all the blue paint."

It was a jovial atmosphere in the meal-room that morning. Many gladiators were expecting to earn their freedom through the funds they had made their masters over the Triumph. Some, including the gentle giant Atlas, intended to stay on as free gladiators and trainers; rudiarii. He was surrounded by his fellow-Goths as they spoke cheerfully in their snappish language, slapping his broad back.

"Do you think you'll get freedom today?" Hiccup asked the Briton as they washed out their bowls. The Briton stood, face tight.

"No," he said flatly. "I am political prisoner. I was paraded through the streets like a bear on the first day of this Triumphal farce and children spat in my face."

Hiccup was taken aback. "I'm… I'm sorry, Briton."

His great, grizzled head turned away. "I am sorry. I should not bring my angers on you, my friend."

"Well, we're all in the same longship," said Hiccup ruefully. "Not like I'm getting out of here after only a week, after all."

The Briton made a noncommittal noise, his eyes distant. Hiccup turned to follow his gaze to see Nemesis swinging her axe in preparedness, a fire behind her eyes.

"She has a quest, that one," the Briton murmured. "Do not be in her way today."

It was all too soon when the gladiators were lined up and waiting in the training square, their weapons at the ready. Hiccup honestly didn't know why he kept bothering to bring his hammer, but it was a comfort to hold it as the men departed in their small groups into the waiting onslaught of noise and violence. As always, he was left until last. Strangely though, the Briton had been kept with him, his face impassive and full of calm dignity as Hiccup fidgeted beside him listening to the roar of the crowd and the shrieks of dying men.

The overseers eventually prodded the Briton towards the ring, and Hiccup looked at him with a million questions in his eyes. The man smiled faintly.

"I go to face the Emperor, I think," he said quietly.

Hiccup swallowed. "Good luck," he said, and the man nodded once, clapping his winged helmet down over his head.

"I am beyond luck," he said, and Hiccup suddenly saw the man who had been a king inside the prisoner emerge as though from behind a cloud. "This is my execution, I believe."

He had no words. He reached out and clasped the Briton's forearm tightly, before dragging him into a hug. "You are the great man here," he said hoarsely, and the Briton's deep chuckle sounded.

"You are as my younger brother in Rome," he murmured. "You are hero, and I am honoured to have been your friend. Your name?"

"Hiccup Haddock," Hiccup said, and his voice cracked. "You?"

The Briton only smiled, and turned to the waiting expanse of sand. "I will be meeting you in your heaven, then, Hiccup Haddock, a great hero. Dagda keep you," he said softly, and stepped into the scorching light.

Hiccup pressed his eye against the crack in the door the minute it closed, trying to hear over the audience's jeers and shouts, trying to see his friend in the tiny sliver available to him.

"Claudius!" the Briton roared, and his deep voice thundered across the arena. Hiccup's breath caught. What was he_doing?_

"Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus!" he roared again, and Hiccup tried to make out the face of the old man in the purple box. The woman was standing tall and straight, quivering with anger, but the Emperor had leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of his strange curved chair. His head was shaking – or was it some nervous palsy? Hiccup couldn't tell.

"This is dishonour to you, O mighty conqueror!" the Briton bellowed, standing proud and noble before the Imperial family. "You shame yourself, and me! Do you seek to sully your glory and that of your people and ancestors with this display? I am a brother king, a man you have defeated in arms. You do no service to your might and your splendour to treat a valiant conquered foe thus! What wonder is it that such prefer to fight you to the death, when the price they must pay for your great empire is this unmannerly and crass display of the might of only buildings and money and bloodlust? You have been called a great mind, Caesar. Dare you to hear the words of your defeated enemy? He has little else left to lose!"

The sneering and hollering of the crowds reached ear-splitting levels, and Hiccup pressed his hands over his ears, riveted to the sight of his friend standing calm and defiant before the most powerful man in the world. The words had been too fast for him to follow it all, but he thought he had the gist. The Emperor looked troubled, his head shaking and trembling more violently. It was definitely a nervous palsy, Hiccup decided absently.

The woman was shrieking, her eyes wide and angry, but the Emperor held up a hand for silence. The hush spread slowly over the audience, and they sat to watch the Emperor give a verdict. Hiccup's breath stopped.

The man stood, and the harsh sunlight etched the lines of care on his face. He really was just a tired old man, Hiccup thought in surprise. He listed slightly to the left on his feet, and his hands also trembled a little as he raised them again. "I hear you, Caratacus of the Catuvellauni," he said in a surprisingly loud voice, though the trace of a stammer, carefully trained out, could still be heard. "You are a king of a once-great people. This does not befit you, n-nor the majesty of Rome. She must p-prove a fairer mistress than she seems. This execution will be stayed until you have addressed the s-Senate."

The Emperor nodded seriously to the Briton - _King Caratacus_ - who nodded back just as seriously. Men in shining bronze breastplates and strangely-crested helmets marched in perfect step into the arena. Hiccup realised he was seeing his first of the legendary Roman legions. The leader of the small band of twelve foot-soldiers beckoned brusquely to Caratacus, brandishing a set of shackles. The King inclined his head in polite dismissal, and began to stride with utter poise across to the open arena gate. The legion's leader glanced worriedly at the Imperial box, before they followed him. They looked far more like an escort for protection or impact than a prison detail.

Hiccup blew out a shaky breath, his heart hammering in his chest. The Briton wasn't dead. He had to speak to this senate thing, and surely that was good. It meant he would have a chance to make the case for his life, and Hiccup could attest to the fact that the Briton was a powerfully intelligent man. He spoke near-perfect Norse now, and they'd only been conversing for a week. He was dignity personified, and noble and kingly. They couldn't fail to be impressed by him. (1)

A sharp jab in his back startled him, and he turned to look into a handler's flustered face. "Get in there!" he hissed, and Hiccup was pleased to find that he understood him. "In! In!"

No doubt the man was upset by the unexpectedness of the Briton's speech. Hiccup muttered, "Okay, okay, sheesh!" as the man gabbled in his face, pointing and gesticulating. Hiccup sighed as the door opened once more.

As he walked out into the arena, the chant began to sound. Hiccup squinted up around the packed tiers as "Vul-can! Vul-can! VUL-CAN! VUL-CAN!" began to build and grow in strength, reverberating around the oval. It would have been really nice for his ego if they'd been shouting his real name, Hiccup mused, lazily saluting the Emperor, the little boy, and winking at his little sister, but hey, beggars couldn't really be choosers.

Then he saw a familiar face in the corner of his eye, and it was as though his vision sharpened tenfold. Sitting beside the Imperial box was Gnaeus Appius Balbus, Hiccup's _owner_, his sad-eyed hard-faced wife Plotina Sulpicia – and demurely dressed in a white toga with red embroidery, was _Alvin the Treacherous_.

Hiccup felt his rage coalesce into a living thing that danced behind his eyes. Alvin smirked at him, and blew a little kiss.

The creak of the animal pen's gate opening barely registered as Hiccup stared at Alvin. A soft head under his hand made him blink and look down – and there was Feather, her coppery eyes heavy-lashed and adoring. His hand scratched her head without any conscious direction from him as he continued to bore holes in the villain with his gaze.

Alvin raised his eyebrows as Hiccup was surrounded by dragons, his expression amused. He gestured significantly to them, and then pointed to his right with a smug smile. Hiccup's eyes flicked to where the Emperor's beautiful, dangerous wife sat in the Imperial Box, and he felt his rage ignite.

"Feather," he said, kneeling down to her, "see the man with brown hair near the purple box? He has white clothes with red on them. White and red. See them?"

Feather tipped her head in a doglike pose as she blinked at him slowly, before looking up into the crowded stands. Hiccup's breath was coming fast and hot, and he felt dizzy with how angry he was. He waited as Feather made a purl of assent, and he turned back to Alvin, returning his smug smile with a furiously satisfied one.

"Fire him," he hissed, and Feather inhaled, rising on her hind legs to get a better angle.

Screams erupted from the stands as the crowd saw the billow of flame boiling towards them. Hiccup caught a glimpse of Balbus' round face drenched in fearful sweat and Alvin white-faced in shock. Plotina was obviously hyperventilating, and he felt vaguely sorry for that through the red mist of rage.

Unfortunately, Feather's fireballs weren't nearly as fast, nor as dense as Toothless', and so the rippling fog of fire dissipated long before it could do any real damage. People had scrambled over each other, tripping and screaming in their haste, and several people had to pat their clothes rather hurriedly, but that was the extent of the damage. Hiccup felt rather cheated by that, but patted Feather's shoulder in thanks as she settled. "Good girl," he murmured.

Then Hiccup noticed that Alvin had not escaped as unscathed as the rest of the audience. The side of his honest-looking face had been scalded red-raw by the plume of superheated gas that followed a dragon's fire. It would scar, and badly. Hiccup felt his ire settle into the pit of his stomach, sated. He sighed out the rest, and his legs almost buckled. Scarlet's snout pushed under his arms, propping him up. He'd never been that angry. It felt wrong – powerful and heady and_wrong_.

He looked up into the Imperial Box then, even as Clumsy bonked his knees with his head and flopped down onto the sand before him. He could feel the warm breathing of the Big Fella behind him, and Handsome's dainty chirp sounded from over his right shoulder. No doubt they were all there, his buddies-in-captivity.

The Imperial Box was in chaos, soldiers ringing the Emperor. The little boy looked betrayed, and Hiccup met his eyes and shook his head, pointing to the stands where Alvin had sat. The boy's expression cleared and he began to whisper earnestly to his sister and father. The woman and the older boy were issuing orders. Somehow, Hiccup thought, eyeing the woman with distaste, that didn't surprise him in the least.

A growl alerted him to another presence, and he turned to see another small squad of legionnaires marching in jingling unison across towards him. He calmed the edgy Twin and kept one hand on skittish Scarlet's head for comfort. She grumbled, but thankfully did not fire.

The legionnaires stopped twenty feet away, and one of them barked something at him.

Hiccup shrugged helplessly. "I not speak well," he called back. "My apologies."

The man frowned, and then said slowly, "You fire lizard at great Caesar."

"No!" Hiccup said forcefully, and Sulky huffed in response at the loud noise. "Sorry, Sulky," he said in Norse to the blue dragon. "No," he said again in Latin, though quieter. "I fire at man who… who slave me."

The soldier's eyebrows rose. "Man who enslave you in crowd?" he said, and Hiccup turned to look balefully at where Alvin still sat, his brown guileless eyes filled with anger and his toga pressed against his injured cheek.

"He is hurt man," Hiccup said with grim satisfaction. "Hurt on face. He Northland, like me."

"You are Northlander?" the man nodded slowly, before his back stiffened. "Games must continue."

Hiccup shrugged unconcernedly. "Dragons tame."

"You disrupt Imperial Triumph," the man said with regret in his face. "I will tell Emperor you do not fire lizard at him. But you are to be..." and he said something strange.

The last word wasn't one Hiccup had learned yet, and he blinked. "I am sorry, this word…?"

"It means 'punished'," came an emotionless voice speaking in Norse, and Hiccup's eyes flicked to where Nemesis stood in full armour, her war-axe over her shoulder. "They mean to make you fight me to the death. It is punishment for disrupting the games."

Hiccup gaped at her, before turning up to the Imperial Box. The Emperor looked furious as he argued with his wife, who looked spitefully, coldly triumphant. Claudius gestured to the arena, his hand shaking as the little boy tugged at his father's sleeve.

The soft-faced teen selected a fig and brought it lazily to his mouth. His eyes met Hiccup's, and a glint of amusement passed through them as he bit down. The juice travelled over his chin.

"The woman, this is her idea!" Hiccup said desperately to Nemesis, who bowed her head.

"Agrippina," she said darkly. "Yes, this is no surprise. She is the Emperor's wife. That teenager there is her son, Nero. The Emperor's own children are there – Britannicus and Octavia. It is no secret that she wishes to do away with them. Her ambition knows no bounds."

"She's the one," Hiccup's breath was growing faster again, "she's the one who made the deal with Alvin to get the dragon-taming knowledge. It's her."

Nemesis shook her head and unlimbered her axe. "What can you do to a woman like Agrippina? No, protect these, at least. You must tell them to go, or the handlers will kill them for disobeying," she said, and her voice was chilled steel.

"Wha…? _No,_" Hiccup gasped, and began to talk to his friends very fast. "Scarlet, Sulky, lead them back. Back into the dark, guys. You can't stay here, I've got to do something that you no doubt will try to interrupt and the minute you do they'll _kill_ you all. You've got to go back into the dark, guys. That's it, Sulky! The dark! Big Fella, Handsome, follow Sulky! Twins, no dancing today, sorry buds, but you've got to go! No, Feather…" he pushed her head away from him. She crooned and looked at him with huge, worried eyes. "I'll be okay," he said softly, and scratched her eyeridge again. "Go on now! I'll… I'll see you tomorrow!" he pasted on a big smile, and the feathered dragon gave a curious whine, before trotting after her fellows.

The clang as the animal pen's gate closed behind them was echoingly loud and final.

The legionnaires had taken up positions around the edge of the ring. Hiccup unhooked his hammer and turned to face the tall, immensely strong warrior before him.

He'd beaten Oglaranna, but it had been luck and surprise. No one had expected him to win, which had made it easier to shock her into a defeat. Nemesis, on the other hand, was infinitely more dangerous. She had actually seen Hiccup fight every day in the practice yard, knew his speed and technique and strengths. She wasn't as physically huge as Oglaranna, but Hiccup knew she possessed a massive, wiry strength in those shoulders of hers, capable of cutting his trunk in two with one blow. She was also more skilled than Oglaranna, having been exposed to the fighting styles of Thor only knew how many cultures, and furthermore honing her own skills in life-or-death situations almost every day.

Lastly, Oglaranna had fought him to avenge insult on her clan and person – but really only because she enjoyed a fight. Nemesis was fighting for something else – something that made fire burn behind her eyes. It was probably a lot more important than some silly insult, Hiccup was certain.

"I will make it fast and painless," Nemesis said in that same unemotional tone. Hiccup swallowed and assumed a ready position.

"I don't want it at all, think you can manage that?" he said shakily, and her axe whistled through the air to slice at his chest. He jerked back, feeling the tunic gape. She'd sliced fabric, not flesh, and Hiccup almost collapsed with relief.

"I am sorry, boy," she grated, and the weapon howled as she reversed the swing towards his face. Hiccup was grateful beyond measure that Astrid was an axewoman and had spent so many hours drilling him in ways to combat them. It seemed being at the business-end of an axe was becoming a habit.

"Sorry enough to stop?" he gasped, and his hammer snaked out to rap firmly on her axe-elbow as her pass went wide of his head. She didn't even stop the weapon's arc, but changed hands briskly and allowed the axe's momentum to spin her full circle. Hiccup brought up his hammer as fast as he could, and the edge of the axe brought up sparks as they clashed. Hiccup skidded back in the white sand, heart pounding.

She was phenomenally strong. His hammer had smashed against his side under the blow, and he could already feel bruises forming. A screech from the animal pen told him that Feather was watching, and he called, "back in the dark, girl! Go on!" even as Nemesis began a huge overhand blow that would split him head to navel.

He ducked at the last moment and swung his hammer as hard as he could onto her sandalled foot. She cried out, and the crowd gasped. They were unused to ever seeing Nemesis show pain on the field. Hiccup fell back, watching warily. He'd been lucky, and wouldn't get away with that again.

She limped slightly as she closed the fight once more, and first punched him solidly in the mouth before following it with a backhanded swing at his ribs. Hiccup gasped as pain bloomed along his side, his ruined slave-tunic falling to the ground. Nemesis stalked closer, her eyes glittering.

"I really am sorry," she breathed, and stamped down on his prosthetic foot. Hiccup landed heavily on his back, his hammer flying wide. He scrabbled for it, even as she raised her bloodied axe once more. "But this is the last day, and you will be the last man I kill as a slave. I go home, to the Northlands. I will tell them your tale, that you were brave."

Hiccup choked as she placed her wounded foot on his throat, holding his body flat. He could hear the screams of the crowd, and the shrieks of Feather. They all sounded as though they were coming from underwater. Nemesis leaned close. "Your name, boy, and village. I promise to tell your wife. I swear it."

"H…" Hiccup croaked, and Nemesis lifted her foot slightly, trying to hear his words.

Hiccup lunged for his hammer even as his injured side screamed in protest, and swung it wildly at her knee. He heard her grunt in pain, and he scrambled to his feet – only his prosthetic was broken. His foot – she had snapped off the metal base. He tottered awkwardly even as she gathered herself again and pushed her axe under his chin. "Your name, boy!" she grated.

He grabbed the handle of the axe and yanked forward, ducking as he did, and she fell heavily into the sand, scrabbling to stand on her injured knee and foot. "Very sneaky," she hissed.

Hiccup grinned tightly, balancing precariously on the broken metal leg. "Thanks," he said between harsh breaths, and she swung the axe viciously, cutting a swathe over his ribcage, before grabbing his pouch to bring his head close for a vicious headbutt. He fell back to the ground, dazed and reeling, his blood in his eyes.

"Enough," she panted. "Your name."

He groaned as he tipped his head back, and his eyes closed in defeat. He never thought he'd die like this. He hoped that Odin could find him, in this hot land. He hoped he'd see Astrid in Valhalla. He hoped dragons got there too. "H… Hiccup," he whispered.

Nemesis remained frozen, her arms locked in a killing blow that would not come. Her axe fell from nerveless fingers, even as her racing breath slammed into her body and choked her. "What…?" she said in a tiny, aghast voice.

"Hiccup… Horrendous H-Haddock," Hiccup managed, and coughed, trying to stretch out his burning side. "Son of Stoick… the Vast… of…"

"Berk," she finished in a whisper of horror and disbelief. "You… I just… oh great Odin, no, _no_."

Hiccup coughed and pressed his hand as hard as he could to his bleeding ribs. "Tell… Astrid that I… love… and Toothless… and tell… Dad that he… seriously needs to... lighten up…"

Nemesis clapped her hands over her mouth with a strangled noise of pure anguish, before her eyes closed. She stood still as a stone, her face twisted with distress and shock.

Hiccup swallowed twice, before he relaxed as much as he could on the baking-hot sand. The roar of the crowd had become a faint echo in his ears, and he felt light-headed. "Okay…" he croaked. "I'm… ready…"

Nemesis gave a cry of wordless horror, and threw herself onto the ground beside him. She started to tear her sleeves in a panic, and her eyes now glittered with tears. "I'm sorry," she gasped hysterically, "so sorry, I'm sorry, oh Hiccup, it's you, it's you, I'm here, look at you, I'm so sorry, I'll fix it, I'm here now…"

The babbling was so uncharacteristic that Hiccup's eyes opened and he peered at her muzzily. "What was… Ow!"

She pressed the fabric against his side and began to tie it down. "Hiccup… I'm… you don't remember me, of course you don't remember me, and I'm so sorry, so sorry, I was always coming home but I was captured, and I should never have left on that last voyage, and I've hurt you, I've hurt you, and just look at you, a man now, such a handsome man, oh Hiccup, my boy, my little boy, I'm so _sorry_…" she rattled in a breathless, panicked undertone.

"Wait…" he said slowly, and she abruptly stopped her frantic movements and words, her wet eyes suddenly afraid.

"Repeat all that again?" he asked, an indescribable feeling beginning to rise in his stomach and fill his chest.

Her mouth began to tremble and she put a hand on his cheek, turning his head to face her. "Shhh," she said tenderly. "I'll fix it. I'm here now."

Hiccup stared at her through a haze of pain – at her auburn hair with the two white streaks from her temples, at her green eyes, at her suddenly-familiar brow, at her long-fingered, clever hands. "But you're…" he began, and she stroked his cheek fondly, a tear spilling down her face.

"I was captured," she said with a trembling smile. "Captured and sold."

"_Mum_?" Hiccup mouthed soundlessly, and she nodded, her face almost crumpling for a moment before she found that tremulous smile again, tears hitting his face.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she managed, and pushed the scrap of cloth onto the slash under his ribs.

He hissed in pain, before looking back at her blurry face again. Or maybe his eyes were full of tears too. He wasn't sure. "You hurt me, Mum," he said in dumb shock, and his fingers fumbled at the makeshift bandage.

"I know, sweetheart, shh, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry," she said tearfully, barely holding back the flood. Hiccup blinked his own green eyes at hers.

"No…" he said indistinctly, "not that… it's… you weren't there…"

At that, the dam broke and she bent her head over his face and wept – great, heartbroken, soul-deep sobs. She shook and shuddered, her grief too huge to comprehend. Fifteen years. Fifteen years. It rattled his mind loose from its foundations.

Hiccup tried to push himself up, hissing when his ribs complained. "Hey, no, no, Mum, no… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… said that," he said muzzily, and patted her hair the way he patted a dragon. "Shhh. Hey, look at… the bright side… you didn't have to go through… raising a teenager…"

She laughed brokenly even through her tears, and then wrapped him in her arms. She stroked his hair and rocked him gently as he clung helplessly to her. She smelled right – like _home_ in his earliest memories. "Oh, my little boy…" he heard her whisper against his hair.

"Please don't… call me that…" he mumbled. "Even if it's true… s'your job to lie to me. Make me feel better."

She laughed again and pulled back to look at him, her hands framing his face. "No," she said firmly through a fresh wave of tears. "I'm your mother, and so you're always my baby boy. Oh," she bit her quivering lip. "You look like me. So much like me."

"How come… I'm so skinny then?" he wanted to know, and she caught him and held him close. He could hear her humming through her hitching breath, and he closed his eyes. His mother's arms.

Nemesis was his mother. His mother was Nemesis. She was Valhallarama of Berk, and she had been captured and sold into slavery when he was only three, and she had missed his whole life. He didn't even know how to feel about it. It was too huge, and he was too hurt.

A cleared throat from above made Valhallarama start, jolting his injured side. He groaned and his hand clamped down on it tightly.

The legionnaire captain's voice sounded a bit diffident as he asked in slow, careful Latin, "sooooo… you're not going to kill him, then?"

Valhallarama's head whipped up and she fixed him with a murderous glare.

"Only, the crowd is wondering what's going on," he added hastily, and her eyes darted to the audience. They were craning forward to see what was happening, and muttering was beginning to rise from the tiers.

Valhallarama gently lowered Hiccup to the arena floor. "Don't move too much," she said warningly, and he quirked his lip into a weak, crooked grin.

"Not in any state to," he answered and coughed again. She smoothed his long reddish hair back and touched his stubbled cheek.

"I see some things don't change. You were a cheeky boy then, too," she said with a watery smile, and then she stood to face the Imperial box.

"What…" Hiccup started, but she shushed him.

"Don't try to stop me," she said firmly, and her crooked grin was the answer to his own. "I've missed so much," she said bitterly, "but I can still do this for you."

"Mum…?" he struggled to sit up, but the legionnaire held him down with cool, professional hands.

"She does a good thing now," he hissed. "Do not waste it."

"Great Caesar!" she called to the box and her face was once again pure adamantine steel, though blotched with the aftermath of her storm of sobbing. "Great Caesar! I earned my freedom this day, the price for my last fight!"

Claudius looked somewhat bewildered at a second change of plans, but stood and nodded acknowledgement. "You have fought the boy, but the duel is unfinished," he replied in his surprisingly strong voice.

"I cannot, Lord," she said, and turned back to where Hiccup lay prone. "He is my son."

The murmurs in the crowd became gasps of astonishment. Claudius' own mouth dropped open slightly before he checked himself, and he nodded once.

"Then the duel is forfeit without death. You have your freedom."

"Give it to him," she said fiercely. "Give him my freedom. I have that choice. I will stay and earn it again. But let him go, let my son go!"

The Emperor actually rocked back in surprise, and his eyes flickered to the long figure of the wounded boy. "This is done," he said and lifted his hand. Then he added in a gentler voice, "You have a great heart, Nemesis, and it is a great deed. I will send my own doctor to the boy. Who is his former owner?"

"Uh," the oily Balbus rose to his feet with an obsequious bow. "That would be me, Father of the Country."

"He will be quartered at your villa. See that he is cared for. My greek physician will tell me otherwise." Claudius regarded the slave trader with scarcely-concealed dislike. Then he sighed. "A fine end to an Imperial T-triumph!" he exclaimed, and the crowd tittered dutifully.

Valhallarama bowed her head. "Thank you, great Caesar," she breathed.

He waved his hand again, before rubbing his brow. "Are there any m-more surprises?" he said in a weary voice. "No? Good. I'm going home."

As the Emperor's entourage left, Valhallarama returned to Hiccup's side, tucking the piece of his broken foot into his trousers. The legionnaires were organising a cloth stretcher, and no doubt there would be a palanquin beyond the arena to take him to the slave-trader's home. "You… shouldn't have…" he moaned, and grasped her hand. She squeezed it firmly.

"Think of it as every time I should have sent you to your room, all rolled into one," she said and a bitter laugh escaped her before she pulled him close again. "I love you," she said against his hair, "and I have been fighting for so many years just to see your face again. If they kill me tomorrow, I will die happy."

Hiccup buried his face in her shoulder and clutched at her with all his strength. Then gentle hands were pulling him away, and he was laid on a stretched piece of rough cloth that two legionnaires picked up carefully. "Mum…?" he mumbled and fumbled at his pouch. "There's…"

"Here, sweetheart," she said, but he couldn't see her. Dark spots were dancing before his eyes. He pulled out Astrid's headcloth, one he had given her for her dowry. It had sat inside Valhallarama's jewellery-coffer for fifteen years.

"Here," he said and pushed it into her hands. He heard her gasp, but his vision was fading.

"Hiccup," she said wonderingly, and he grinned in the vague direction of the voice.

"I stole it… from _my_ wife," he said confidingly, "cos… Dad never remarried." And then the darkness swallowed him.

* * *

(1) "If the degree of my nobility and fortune had been matched by moderation in success, I would have come to this City as a friend rather than a captive, nor would you have disdained to receive with a treaty of peace one sprung from brilliant ancestors and commanding a great many nations. But my present lot, disfiguring as it is for me, is magnificent for you. I had horses, men, arms, and wealth: what wonder if I was unwilling to lose them? If you wish to command everyone, does it really follow that everyone should accept your slavery? If I were now being handed over as one who had surrendered immediately, neither my fortune nor your glory would have achieved brilliance. It is also true that in my case any reprisal will be followed by oblivion. On the other hand, if you preserve me safe and sound, I shall be an eternal example of your clemency."

Tacitus, citing Caratacus' speech to the Senate, _The Annals_.

* * *

_Caratacus (sometimes spelled Caractacus) was a real person._


	12. Chapter 12

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

WHOA, lots of reviews for the last chapter! Over 100! WOW.

**gloc:** It's another Hiccup-centric chapter this time - I'm afraid I don't swap between them every other chapter. It'd probably be a bit boring to read about an interminable sea-voyage anyway! But next one is Astrid again, promise! **tiredman: **I'm so sorry you're tired! But I'm not sure where in the world you are - I update generally every morning here in my country. **Leon Woon: **Blame my dearest psychicsaphie! This plot is all her doing, really - the era and the historical details are me, but the plot is hers! **Ordgar: **Oh, I _love_ my historical characters! And the Claudian age has interested me ever since I read Robert Graves' _I Claudius._ I recommend it! **consuelas revenge: **OMG *flail* I... I have _fan art?_ ILU. So much. You rock SO MUCH! **Clockwork Mockingbird: ***blush* Thank you so much! And we'll have to wait and see to find out the sex of the baby *g* **darkmaster7987: **Oh, thank you! I edited and re-edited that fight over and over, knowing it had to be _perfect_. I'm so stoked you thought I pulled it off! **Strider781: **Thank you! XD And you're on the money on _some_ of your guesses - but I'm not spilling which ones! **The Incredible Puba: **Thank you so much! And nope, we haven't seen the last of our noble Catuvellauni King *g* **Story master: **Oh, don't give up! Give it a go! **richie: **Well, I hope you enjoyed it anyway! **childofthestorm: ***BLUSH* Oh my! Thank you! And here is more! *g* **Foxy's Girl:** Oh, my dearest Foxy! I'm so glad I surprised you! And yes, could _definitely_ be a problem, as we can see! **miseria-veritas:**Thank you so much! And I'm also updating this on LJ, on the community _train_dragon_. I'll be posting them simultaneously from here on in, too!** hicc: **Thank you soooo much for your review! I'm so glad you're enjoying it! **OmarBarria: **Here is more! **Ze Great Camicazi: **HAH, take that, Alvin, right in your honest-looking face! **Voldyne: **Thank you so much! And yeah, Alvin got a taste of what he deserves! **Alluring Alliteration: **Oh my, thank you! **Massinvader:** Glad you liked it! (And for the record, I think dragons _do _go to Valhalla). Thank you!

PHEW! And without further ado, more!

* * *

The little physician's name was Lysippos of Thessalonica, and he had a stern, hawk-like face, a surprisingly boyish grin and cool, gentle hands. He tended the wounds on Hiccup's side and ribs with deft precision, helped him sit up to drink the strange-tasting powdered drinks he mixed, and even shaved him briskly. Hiccup lay in a daze against soft linen, his body covered with a strange crisp blanket, and tried to process what had just happened.

He couldn't.

His mother had… was…

He pushed it out of his mind as Plotina entered, carrying a pitcher. She said something too quickly for Hiccup to follow, and he tried to sort out the clamour in his head long enough to focus on her. She looked a little stressed, but not burned, thank Frigga. Hiccup raised his hand and pointed to her, his finger wobbling, and said weakly, "Plotina."

Her head turned sharply to stare at him, and she said something to the hawk-like physician before coming to sit at Hiccup's bedside. "Vulcan," she said, and a small smile tugged at her thin lips.

"I am now speak some…" he managed in Latin, and her eyebrows rose.

"You have done very well, for a week," she said – at least, that's what Hiccup _thought_ she said.

"You are sorry," he said then, meaning 'I am' but conjugating wrong, and put his hand on her forearm. "For dragon fire. Sorry. Was mean not to hurt Plotina."

She looked down at his hand, and patted it gently. "Vulcan did not hurt Plotina," she said soothingly. "I'm fine."

He sighed in relief to hear it confirmed. "Was worried," he said drowsily.

"Nemesis," Plotina said hesitantly into the ensuing silence. "She said she is your-" and another word he was unfamiliar with, though he could guess the meaning.

"Mother," he said in Norse, before mimicking the word she had said; "mater".

"You did not know," she said wonderingly, and Hiccup shook his head sleepily.

"I am," he raised his eyes, searching for the word he could not find, and eventually shrugged, "little. She is gone to ship, then she is gone dead. She first again here with me when arena."

Plotina bit her lip. "Oh, Vulcan," she said sympathetically and patted his hand again. He smiled vaguely.

"Hiccup," he corrected her. "Not Vulcan any need. Hiccup now."

"Hic-ahp," she said back, and leaned over to tap his chest above his bandaged ribs. His smile broadened at the reminder.

"You seem happier," she ventured, and Hiccup immediately sobered, remembering his drugged anguish on her bathroom floor.

"I in Rome, be slave," he said quietly, and she looked down in shame.

"It is not right," she said harshly, and he made a noise of agreement in his throat.

"Not right, but is Rome," Hiccup mumbled, and he blinked owlishly as his eyelids grew heavy.

Plotina straightened the crisp blanket over him and looked up at the Greek expectantly. "Doctor says to sleep," she said when she had received his nod. "Balbus is not your friend, you are not safe here. But safe for now. Sleep until you are better, and then a free Hic-ahp goes home."

"Home," he breathed.

She reached for the pitcher, and poured him a cup of red liquid. He awkwardly accepted her arm around his shoulder to lift him to sip – and almost spat it back out. It was a sort of wine, he guessed, but sour, with honey added for sweetness. She smiled at his grimace.

"Drink," she said. "To help you sleep."

He gave a sickly smile. Eeeuuurgh. Yuck. He'd even take honey-mead over that stuff. Plotina made him drink the lot though, and he felt a little dizzy when she laid him back down. She smoothed a hand over the bandage on his ribs. Thankfully the cuts had not required stitching this time, but they were smeared with an odd paste and stung like crazy. He sucked in a breath as she gently stretched out a section that had become bunched when he sat up.

It occurred to him then that he was naked from the blanket over his hips up. In fact, he'd been shirtless in front of thousands of people. He knew he should have some objection to this – it fell somewhere under _Astrid_and _oh gods_. There should have been a blush involved, he thought muzzily. But as with the bath that Plotina's women had given him, he was simply too drowsy to care, though this time it had been fear and pain rather than Alvin's cloying drug.

_Alvin_. He'd burned him. Hiccup was fiercely pleased about that, even as he felt a hot rush of shame. He wasn't the kind of person who could ever harm another. But in the grip of that all-consuming fury, he had lashed out at his false friend and kidnapper. It made him feel sick. It made him feel satisfied.

He dimly realised that he hadn't finished with Alvin, either. No doubt the conman was with Balbus even as he lay here helpless. No matter right now – he was useless to any in his present state. Besides, it would make finding him easier.

_I will find you,_ he'd said, filthy and hopeless on the polished marble floor. He still meant to keep that promise.

Plotina smoothed his hair and inspected a spot where Lysippos had missed some whiskers, just under his chin. He vaguely realised he was scowling, and schooled his features back into a smile for her. She smiled back, and patted his shoulder.

"You look angry," she said wryly. "I do not blame you."

Hiccup didn't understand all of that, but her meaning was clear. "Angry," he confirmed, and the smile fell away.

"I have been so angry for a very long time, Hicahp," she said gently. "Don't let yourself do the same."

He stared at her, momentarily speechless. She sighed and her bejewelled fingers picked at each other.

"I was married to Balbus when very young. Understand, young? Maybe-" and she said a number that sounded familiar from the Briton's lessons, though Hiccup couldn't quite pin it down. He made a questioning noise, and she held up both hands, and then three fingers. His eyes widened.

"Thirteen?" he blurted in Norse. He'd heard such things happened, even in other Viking clans, but it was completely unacceptable amongst the Hairy Hooligans to marry before a person had truly reached adulthood. It was considered obscene. Hiccup stared in shock, and he grasped her fidgeting fingers in wordless support. She looked down.

"Very young," she said sadly. "Too young for married… well, I can no longer bear children. I was too young, and my body…" she broke off, her mouth pressing into a thin line of pure pain.

Hiccup could do nothing but hold her hands. Was this whole gods-forsaken city filled with nothing but evil and sorrow?

"Before," she said, lifting her head sharply as though daring herself to revisit her old life, "I had such hopes. But I am married in the strict sense, not the casual, and so I cannot appeal for divorce. I am an only child of a noble family. Balbus will inherit their mantle."

He didn't understand anything in the last sentence after Balbus' name, but again he got the idea. She patted his cheek again fondly, regretfully.

"I take lovers," she admitted. "Balbus does not care, as there will be no child and I will never let that pig touch me again. I would have taken you," she added in a low tone. He froze, and looked warily into her eyes, and she shook her head slowly. "You love your wife," she said in such a tone of loss and wonder that it struck Hiccup to the heart. She said it as though it were the only explanation needed, and perhaps it was.

She stood, a slim, sharp figure in a filmy gown, dripping in jewels and loneliness. He sank back into his pillow as she kissed his brow. "I have been angry," she repeated, "for a very long time. I think I almost forgot what it is to hope for love. I thought it dead forever. It isn't, you have shown me that. You have many people to love, and now yet another who loves you." Her mouth curved into a smile, but there was no joy in it. "That is a great gift."

He was still staring as she left the room, before he fell into a sleep so deep and exhausted it was like death.

* * *

Hiccup awoke slowly, his ribs stinging.

"Shh," said Lysippos in his lilting voice. "Stay still, young man."

Hiccup regarded him in bemusement as he once again cleaned and then spread the odd-smelling paste over Hiccup's ribs. "Emperor's doctor," he said, recalling the word from the previous day, and the Greek laughed.

"Yes, that's me," he said with a touch of amusement. "He makes as difficult a patient as you do. At least you are confined to bed. I have to chase him all over the palace."

"What man of kind is he?" Hiccup asked, getting his words mixed no doubt as the physician helped him sit and fetched more cushions to prop him up.

Lysippos paused in thought. "Worried," he eventually said. "He worries constantly. He is the last of what was a huge family, after all, and most of them died very messily. He worries about the Empire, about its food resources and water supplies. He worries about its justice systems – although I keep telling him that he is completely inconsistent and should really look to my countrymen for guidance. He worries about his children. He worries about history."

"Good man?" Hiccup pressed, and the doctor sighed.

"Yes," he said shortly. "He was a good man. Now he is an Emperor, and they don't have the luxury of being good men. And that worries him too."

Hiccup tipped his head, studying the other man. "You his friends in year and year," he said decisively, and Lysippos raised an eyebrow. It made his hawkish face even more hatchet-like.

"Smart little barbarian, aren't you?" he said. Hiccup bristled.

"Wrong to barbarians," he said crossly. "Rome barbarian."

"Calm down boy, I agree with you on that point," Lysippos held up his hands mock-defensively. "Only to a Greek, just about _anyone_ is a barbarian. After all, our civilisation had been written in stone long before Rome was a collection of mud huts daubed with paintings of wolves. They needed to steal some of our heritage just to feel they measured up. After all," Lysippos drew himself up and put on a face of constipated self-importance, "Athena _forbid_ a _Roman_ should _ever_ feel inferior to _anyone!_"

Hiccup chuckled as the doctor stood, slapping his legs briskly. "That's better. Smiling sweetens the blood, and sour blood prevents wounds from knitting. You can probably get up today, that is…" he walked over to the corner of the room, where he picked up a crutch, "if you can manage this without pulling that side of yours. There's some nasty bruising on your other side…"

Hiccup had to stop him there. "Slow!" he cried, laughing louder now. The doctor was an energetic soul and no mistake. "Slow, please. I do not understand." That last, at least, was a stock phrase the Briton had made him learn by rote.

"Ah," the doctor said apologetically. "Sorry. You can get up today, if this," he shook the crutch, "doesn't hurt. Understand?"

Hiccup blinked at the crutch, before remembering his broken prosthetic. He spotted his foot leaning in the same corner, but the base that had snapped off, where was…? And then the sense memory of Valhallarama pressing something under the ties at his hip returned, and he leaned forward, heedless of his wounds. "The… metal," he struggled to make himself coherent, and pointed at his hip. "Was with me, is for foots. Where?"

"Don't strain those ribs!" Lysippos scolded, pushing him flat again. "It's here, on the table."

Hiccup blew out a gusty breath of relief. "Good. Is there… place for work metal near?"

Lysippos looked confused, and Hiccup mimed striking a hammer until his face cleared with understanding. "It is a nobleman's house, they have a smith," he confirmed.

"Smith," Hiccup repeated, quite liking the word in Latin. He tapped his chest. "I smith," he said and Lysippos scowled.

"You are doing no bashing of bits of metal with that gash in your side," he said sternly. "I am your doctor, and those are my instructions, and if you have a problem with them I'll kindly remind you that I boss the_Emperor_ about on a regular basis. I'll take them to the smith myself, and he can fix them."

Hiccup wanted to protest, wanted to fix his foot himself just to ensure that a proper job was done, but Lysippos looked immovable on this, so he acquiesced. "I looking work?" he said wistfully.

The Greek sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling in despair. "I wash my hands of you," he said dramatically. "Yes, you can watch, _if_ you can use that crutch. And I'm not even letting you try until you've eaten."

He'd never eaten so fast in his life.

The crutch was awkward and pulled at the bruising on his unwounded side where his mother's axe had slammed his hammer against him. It also caught at the (in Hiccup's opinion) indecently short tunic that was all he had been given to wear. It was slow going as he hobbled down the halls behind Lysippos, through a richly appointed garden and several connected courtyards, to a square near the back of the house. There was a rough shack that must have stabled horses once upon a time, judging from the smell. A palanquin sat under a shade beside it. The sound of metal striking metal came from the shack, and Hiccup felt his spirits lift immediately. He hadn't even realised how much he missed his profession.

Lysippos called a greeting as they entered, and Hiccup breathed deeply as a familiar pall of smoke and the tang of hot metal greeted him. The woodsmoke was slightly wrong, and the scent of horse covered it, but he could close his eyes and almost be back beside Gobber at his own smithy, his own forge. He opened them and looked into the face of a short, burly man with neat black hair and no beard, a horsehide apron covering his body and a hammer in his hand. Hiccup gave him a blindingly eager smile.

"Who's this?" the man grunted.

"This is a smith from a far land," Lysippos said rather grandly. "He's broken his foot and needs to fix it."

"From what I can see, there's no fixing that," the man nodded curtly to Hiccup's stump, dangling pathetically in free air. "Get out of my forge."

"Ave. Hiccup Haddock," Hiccup said firmly, and jerked his head to where Lysippos held out his prosthetic and the scrap that had snapped off. The man's eyes narrowed.

"That isn't an ordinary peg," he said slowly, and reached for it with curious hands. Hiccup recognised with delight the look of absorbed interest in his eyes. Thank Volundr, he'd found a _craftsman_.

"Made," Hiccup said proudly, tapping his own chest, and then his face screwed up. "I has helps," he added, in the interests of honesty.

"That's _remarkable_," the man breathed, turning it over to peer at the acid-etched Night Furies flying in formation over the oiled metal surfaces. "Quintus Rufus," he said absently, not even looking up as he offered Hiccup his hand. "Look at that detail. Not a rough edge on it, smooth as a blade. That's a fine piece of work, Iccupaddoc."

"Er," Hiccup said, clumsily leaning on the crutch as he took the man's hand. "Hiccup," he said apologetically, "Hiccup Haddock."

"Whatever you're called, you're a good smith," he said brusquely. "Where are you from?"

"Northland," Hiccup said, spreading his free hand to indicate his inability to express more. "Berk, Viking," he added.

"Oh, one of those," Rufus nodded, still perusing the foot and depressing the spring curiously. "Hmm, never fought you lot. I was up in Gaul, myself."

"Legionnaire?" Hiccup asked, and Rufus looked up, his expression cynical.

"Princeps Prior of the Fifth Cohort," he corrected firmly, and Hiccup cocked his head. "Ex-centurion, lad."

Hiccup was surprised. "Soldiers is to be smith after?"

"Well, not entirely my idea," he said sourly. "Old Tiberius treated his loyal soldiers well for all his faults, but that madman who replaced him sent us all on wild goose chases and idiotic campaigns, throwing around coin like water (1). In the end, not all of us could receive our pension. I hear Claudius has put a motion to the senate to have our pensions paid, but I'm not holding my breath."

Hiccup relaxed his concentration as the blocky man finished. It was exhausting trying to make out all the tenses and conjugations sometimes, especially when they talked so _fast_. "Sorry," he said sincerely.

The man shrugged it away. "How did you do this?" he traced the Night Furies in fascination. "I can't get anything denser than brass to take such a fine line, and this is steel. You'd break your chisel, it's too hard. But the detail is…" he looked up at Hiccup, who hobbled over to the man's cluttered worktable and propped his crutch against the edge.

"Is… liquids," Hiccup started to explain, wondering how to do it. "Take… hot, light..." he ran his hand through his overlong hair, frustrated with his inability to make himself understood.

"Wax?" Rufus said, and pointed to the couple of candles swimming in a lamp beside the table. Hiccup nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes! Wax! Takes and all over metal," he smoothed his hands flat over the table, indicating that the wax should be as even as possible. "Then he takes… yellow…" Hiccup faltered and scratched his head. "Yellow and stone salt and cook (2). Make liquids that eats metal. Draw? Draw is... right word? Good! Draw line in wax, put liquids. Liquids eat metal. Then hot wax and so draw be left!" Hiccup clapped his hands and hoped that had made a kind of sense.

Rufus was looking at him strangely, but he gnawed his lip in dubious acknowledgement. "If you say so," he said. "So you need it fixed?"

"Foots two in," Hiccup said, handing him the little scrap that had been snapped off when Valhallarama stepped onto it. "This…" Hiccup twisted the prosthetic until the line where it had snapped lay flush. "To not make long of foots," he warned. Thor only knew he didn't have the luxury of getting used to a different length of foot in this mad place.

"Ah, I think I'll leave you two masters to it," said Lysippos dryly, and Rufus only grunted, trying to come up with a way to attach the base without extending the foot. Hiccup raised his head and smiled at the boisterous Greek doctor.

"Thank you, Doctor Lysippos," he said with true gratitude.

"I'll be back to check on you tomorrow, young Hiccup," Lysippos shook a finger at him. "No hammering!"

Hiccup shook his head solemnly. "No hammering," he repeated.

Lysippos smiled. "Then, vale."

Rufus was pumping the bellows at his strangely-shaped hearth and Hiccup studied the peculiar anvil for a moment, before turning to his broken foot. Grabbing a piece of dirty paper and a drawing stick, he drew a cross-section of the foot's base, before scribbling a kind of bracket on it, with fasteners and pins to hold it in. "Maybe?" he squinted at it.

"That'll work," Rufus' voice came from behind him, and he turned to see the gruff soldier regarding his messy sketch with an impressed look on his face. "You're some kind of genius, aren't you?" he said to the young man, who furrowed his brow.

"His teach good," he said modestly.

"He must be a miracle worker. I want to meet that man," Rufus said, grabbing the sketch and throwing a tongue of brass into the forge.

Hiccup thought of Gobber here, in this strange forge, not even knowing the little stilted Latin that Hiccup had so painfully mastered. It was a weird idea – like imagining clothes on a dragon. "He is Viking," he said with a smile.

"Then all I can say is I'm glad we haven't come near your weapons yet," the ex-soldier grinned harshly, and began to pound at the metal, shaping it into the bracket.

Rufus knew his trade. Hiccup watched a moment with a glow of contentment as the bracket formed, breathing in the reassuring smells of the smithy. Then he pushed a poker into the fire and hopped one-legged back over to the workbench, pulling the leather straps and buckles away from the metal of his prosthetic. He pushed down on the bellows once, but the strain on his side proved too much and he stopped, though thankfully the coals were still hot enough to make the poker end red-hot, and he picked it up carefully with a scrap of horsehide around his hands. Carefully he touched it to the places on the broken piece and the foot itself where the pins would push through, waiting for the metal to soften in each case.

"Well, you obviously know a trick or two," Rufus puffed as he plunged the now L-shaped bracket into a barrel, clouds of steam rising around his face. "Pins are there. We'll rasp this after it's on. Come on, before it cools."

Hiccup cautiously transferred the two pieces to the anvil and hovered anxiously as Rufus fished out the bracket, still hot but not glowing, and pressed them together. Then he grabbed one of the thick steel pins Hiccup handed him and began to pound it through the softened metal on both sides. Hiccup breathed out. It wasn't going to go brittle and snap. Volundr smiled in this smithy.

Rufus deftly pressed the four pins into the foot, and then grabbed a heavy rasp and began shaving down the rough edges and the bent pin ends. Hiccup found a file with a finer grain, and handed it over when he judged it was ready.

"Shame to put another metal on it," Rufus said as he wiped his brow. He handed the repaired foot to Hiccup, who grabbed a polishing cloth and began going over the still-warm metal. Hiccup quirked his lip as he studied the difference between the stormy steel and the bright brass.

"It's good," he assured the other smith, polishing industriously with the arm opposite his side-wound. "Look good."

Rufus gave a grudging smile. "I suppose it's not too bad."

Hiccup had to wait until the foot had cooled completely before trying it on. He was already wearing the leather wool-lined sock over his stump, so he was able to slip his leg into the harness and buckle it with the ease of long practice without having to return to the room. He stood gingerly and put his weight on it.

"Is hold," he said triumphantly, and took a few experimental steps.

"Glory, boy, you don't even limp," Rufus muttered.

Hiccup pushed his leg down harder into the prosthetic. He quite liked the contrast of the cool steel and the honey-warm brass. He hummed in satisfaction. "Lots of test," he replied. "And grew too high for old one," he added in a mutter.

"How old were you when you lost it, if you don't mind the question?" Rufus wiped his hands down on a cloth, and Hiccup tried to remember the word for fourteen. Giving up, he did as Plotina had done and used his hands.

"Fourteen, huh," Rufus folded his arms. "You can't be much older now."

"Eighteen!" Hiccup said, stung. He was _tall_ and skinny now, not _short_ and skinny! Had no one noticed? He was certainly taller than Rufus! It'd just be his luck that the whole habitable world would choose to ignore it.

The smith chuckled. "You've got a young face, lad. I think you're always going to look young, until the day you're suddenly old. That's a blessing in disguise, that. Should work a treat with the womenfolk, too."

"Married," Hiccup said shortly, and Rufus chuckled again.

"There goes all your fun," he said good-humouredly. "The kitchen should be putting out Prandium now (3). You hungry, my prickly Viking friend?"

Hiccup relaxed as he realised he was being made fun of. Well, not like _that_ was a terribly new experience. "Yes," he said, allowing a sheepish grin to cross his face. He touched the pouch at his neck once, before following Rufus out into the sundrenched courtyard.

Something struck the back of his head, and he fell heavily to the dusty ground, eyes watering. He heard Rufus grunt in pain before it all went black.

* * *

(1) Caligula, Emperor 37 - 41 AD  
(2) Sulfur and saltpetre.  
(3) The midday meal


	13. Chapter 13

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

To all my lovely reviewers! Thank you all so very much! You guys are diamonds.

**Chaela Laughluuurver: **Oh, thank you so much! *blush* I'm so glad you're enjoying it! **Clockwork Mockingbird: **Ain't I a stinker? I do love whumping Hiccup, poor thing! **OmarBarria: **She's on her way, promise! We don't see her this chapter (I got them mixed up in my head, whoops) but next is _definitely_ an Astrid-chapter! **ze Great Camicazi: **GRRR ALVIN WE HATE YOU SO MUCH. **Story master: **Calm down there, that attitude isn't productive at all! If you make yourself a profile, I'll send you a personal message about your story (as I told you before). It's just that I can't spend the whole section up here critiquing someone else's work. It's supposed to be about _reviews - _speaking of which, I thank you very much for your praise! I did indeed read your story (thus the repeated offer of a personal message), and I told you that I loved the ideas. I'm very sorry, I don't have the time to mentor someone, but why not get yourself a beta/critiquer through this site and have a go at posting? I look forward to reading the whole thing! Also, please have a word with your brother. That was rude, and immensely unfair to me after all the work I have put into this. I have deleted his 'review'. **Foxy's Girl: **You sense correctly! *g* Evil Alvin, stomped all over your heart. And poor Plotina, glad you liked where I went with her! (and now I fear Hiccup-the-concubine stories emerging in the future *shudder*) **Vlad Taltos: **Glad you enjoyed it! I tried to be very careful with that twist - goodness it got rewritten a zillion times. **Pip pip: **I've in fact finished the story, and boy or girl it's done now, and I'm not giving it away! However, if that's your interest, I've seen a _lot _of fics where the child is a boy, so have another look! I recommend Gumdrop Boo's stories - they're excellent and there are two Haddock sons. Or try Norwesterner's stories - they have a little boy in that too. There's _HEAPS_. **Voldyne: **As if I'm about to allow Hiccup a moment's grace ;p Thank you, dearest Voldyne, as always! **Strider714: **I'm so mean to him, I never give him a break! Poor Plotina. My lovely beta/ideas person psychicsaphie pointed out to me that the Latin I originally had Hiccup speaking was a little _too_ eloquent, whoops! And I mixed up my chapter order in my head - today is more Hiccup, _tomorrow_ is Astrid time, double whoops! Thank you so much! **childofthestorm:** *ducks and runs* I can't help it! He's just too much fun to whump on! Thank you for the lovely comments on the Latin - I was hoping it made sense! I do hear you on the regular updating thing. That's why I wanted to have most of this complete before posting - I also hate it when a story I'm invested in is on indefinite hiatus! Thank you thank you thank you! **darkmaster7987:** Thank you so much! I do hope I'm giving your imagination some time to play, and so glad you like the language barrier stuff! **drayconette:** (I do like your name!) Thank you! I'm so stoked you like my style - and I like the idea too, although I'm afraid I can't use it! And yay, glad you like the speedy updates!

And now, have some Hiccup!

* * *

Hiccup groaned. His head hurt. His brain hurt. His ribs hurt. His side hurt. It was all a little excessive, really, and he was intensely tired of waking up feeling like he'd been sat on by a Gronkle.

"Oh, look. Hero boy's decided to join us," came a sneering voice. Hiccup's eyes flew open and he peered into what looked like a massive vaulted hall of stone, columns crumbling along the walls. He knew that sneer.

"Alvin," he growled.

Rolling over with another heartfelt groan, he discovered his hands were tied.

"Yes, I'm afraid you're my guest once more," Alvin moved into his line of sight, his expression cool. The right side of his face was red and raw, shiny from where Feather's fire had touched him.

"What, didn't you like the makeover I gave you?" Hiccup said mockingly, and Alvin's fists tightened.

"You'll pay for that," he snarled, and his eyes blazed with anger. Hiccup couldn't bring himself to care.

"Actually, I think you'll find that it was payment for services you rendered," Hiccup retorted, and painfully pulled himself to his feet. "Where the Hel am I?"

Alvin waved a grandiose hand at the giant chamber. "Why, this is your place of work, Hiccup. You're going to be doing a little job for us here. At least, you'd better if you value that sorry hide of yours. Get used to the place. I do hope you'll find it comfortable. Do you like what we've done with it?"

"Us…? We…?" Hiccup said suspiciously, and Alvin sighed, dropping the hand.

"I really had thought you'd have worked it out by now," he said reprovingly.

Then the tall, beautiful, dangerous woman from the Imperial Box stepped into the chamber, and he had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop his fear from showing on his face. "Agrippina," he said in a voice that rippled with barely-suppressed dread.

"Bow in the presence of the Empress," Alvin hissed and kicked at Hiccup's knees. He fell heavily on his side on the hard stone floor, and bit his scream of pain off as his wound flared in agony.

Hiccup panted against the floor as Alvin bowed graciously. "Great lady," he said smoothly in Latin.

"Your face is repulsive," she snapped, and looked down at Hiccup, her lip curled. There was something utterly cold about her lovely eyes, Hiccup thought, and shrank back from them. They were calculating and flat, like a predator fish's. "Whose appalling idea was it to put this whelp in the arena? He's famous now, and even more so since that debacle yesterday."

Alvin shrugged, his eyes livid at the slur to his face. "It will blow over, Lady Agrippina," he said in a tight voice. "Especially now that the boy has disappeared."

"Idiots, always surrounded by idiots," she muttered, and nudged the prone Hiccup with her foot delicately. "Our beloved Emperor, my witless clod of a husband, sent his own physician to tend the boy. His disappearance will be noted. If any of this comes to light…"

"None of it shall implicate you in the smallest way, Lady," Alvin grated.

She pursed her lips. "What a disgusting piece of barbarian refuse," she murmured, watching Hiccup pant out his pain, her eyes both bemused and slightly repelled. "I didn't believe you myself, but once I'd seen that display in the Octavian Amphitheatre I had to concede it."

"You do me too much honour, Lady Agrippina," said Alvin with a lilt of sarcasm.

"Oh, I know I do," she said, amused. "After all, you're going to become a Citizen of the Empire, aren't you? One of the _richest_ Citizens, too. A barbarian as well, and that ghastly ugly thing on your face and all."

Alvin took a deep breath and released it slowly. "As you say," he said through tightly-clenched teeth.

"Arrogant little fool, wasn't he?" Agrippina turned back to peer at Hiccup, her brows furrowing at his long hair and truncated leg. "He saluted the son of that whore Messalina and not mine. Well, at least the brat is punished for it now."

Hiccup pushed himself up onto his elbows and tried to stretch the pain out of his wounded side. He hadn't followed a word of the conversation – and frankly, given Agrippina's drawling sneering voice, didn't really want to. "Nice friends you've got," he rasped in Norse to Alvin, who cleared his throat. Privately Hiccup thought the treacherous bastard agreed with the sentiment.

"What did it say?" Agrippina's lip curled as she regarded him.

"Just threatening me, Lady," lied Alvin smoothly. "I'm absolutely at the top of his list of favourite people."

She raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Tell it what to do."

Hiccup's hair was abruptly yanked, his neck bending back painfully. "Now, Golden Boy, about that job," Alvin hissed into his face. The wet, red surface of the burn was horrible to look at close up, and Hiccup shivered.

"Never going to work for you," he managed through his burning throat.

"Oh, you are, my dear," Alvin said almost pleasantly. "You don't have any choice in the matter, you see."

Hiccup struggled as much as he could, but it was useless. Alvin outweighed him, was stronger than him, and didn't have a hole in his side or a slice over his ribs.

"Just through there," Alvin said, nodding at the door the empress had stepped through, "is a dragon. It's very rare. Very special. You're going to tame it for us."

Hiccup stopped struggling. Was _that_ all?

"Why can't you do it?" he rasped. "I told you…"

Alvin dropped his head, and his chin slammed onto the stone floor. He tasted blood in his mouth, and winced. "Oh yes, you did," Alvin said darkly, "but it seems dragons are better judges of character than you."

Hiccup paused, and then looked up at him. "You can't train it, can you?" he said, feeling a vindictive smirk spreading over his face. "You tried, but it hates you on sight!"

"Such a clever boy," Alvin said in a horrible, cooing voice. Then his expression turned stony and he sneered, "what does it matter when I can get _you_ to do it for me?"

"Poor Alvin. You're a bit young to be suffering from memory loss," Hiccup said sarcastically, pushing himself up a little. Gods, he hurt.

"Oh? Enlighten me as to what I've forgotten," Alvin sneered.

"Just the part where I told you that _I am never going to work for you,_" Hiccup spat. Alvin laughed.

"Poor Hiccup. You're a bit young to be suffering from delusions," he mimicked Hiccup's tone.

"I won't," Hiccup said adamantly.

"You will," Alvin said, evidently enjoying their exchange immensely.

"Or what?" Hiccup challenged. "Huh?"

"Hiccup, Hiccup, Hiccup," Alvin shook his head slowly, tutting. "Such a clichéd question. I'm afraid the answer is a bit clichéd as well, but if you will ask… You'll train the dragon. _Or else_."

Hiccup stared at him, and then began in a low tone. "You drug me, take me from my homeland, separate me from my family, lie to me repeatedly, trick me into betraying the dragon-training knowledge, chain me to a ship's floor for three months, sell me into slavery, and finally when I think you might actually be done, you bash me over the head. What more," he said in a voice that positively dripped with contempt and anger, "can you possibly do to me?"

Alvin gave him a small apologetic smile. "Whoops," he said softly. "Not a clever question either."

Hiccup just _glared_ at him.

"Romans are so delightfully inventive," he said, examining his fingernails with a lofty expression on his face. "All those different cultures under the one roof. They've learned such a _lot_. It's really very impressive. The things they know about, say, torture-"

Hiccup's heart began pounding at double-time.

"—are quite astonishing. No doubt you remember Balbus' good friend Iulius Gracchanus? I hear he's something of an artist. As a craftsman yourself, I know you'd be thrilled to…"

"Stop," Hiccup growled.

"But my dear Hiccup," Alvin put a hand to his chest in feigned shock, "are you telling me that you'd rather tame the dragon than get tortured? Poor Gracchanus, he will be so upset."

"Shut your lying, laughing mouth," Hiccup grated, and tried to push himself up from the ground with his bound hands. Finally getting to his feet, he looked Alvin in the eye and swallowed hard. "I'll tame the dragon," he muttered.

"I know," Alvin smiled. Turning to Aggripina, he changed to Latin. "Lady, if you would?"

"Does it understand?" she said, her eyes shrewd as she looked between them.

"He does," Alvin nodded courteously. She snorted.

"Get him started," she barked, and prodded Alvin in the breastbone hard. "And you, my slippery barbarian friend, make sure that there are no mistakes. I will not have my son's military victories sullied by association with the likes of _you_."

Alvin bowed stiffly, and sneered at the woman's back as she led the way back through the chamber doors. Hiccup followed, his breath hitching in pain. He had the beginnings of a plan…

…which tumbled straight out of his head the minute he walked through the door.

He had walked into a massive vaulted room just as monolithic as the preceding one, and there was indeed a dragon.

_The biggest damn dragon he'd ever seen_.

The sheer size of it was staggering. It was as big as the Queen, probably even longer, though far less bulky. Its sleek, giant shoulders rose smoothly like an internal mountain peak. It had been bound to the floor of the chamber with giant ship-ropes. It was a clear, deep blue, with ridges of lighter blue that peaked into delicate, transparent fins along its back and head. It was oddly streamlined and its tail had more in common with a whale's than with a Night Fury's. Its eyes were pure black, and Hiccup realised with a jolt that this massive creature was _definitely_ a sea dragon. It would be almost blind in the light, no doubt.

Its furled wings were that same lighter blue, and dazedly Hiccup noticed that neither had been slashed in the manner of the arena dragons. This huge thing could still _fly_.

Its head was tied flat to the chamber floor with yet more ropes, and clamped shut with a vice-like contraption built in such a manner that it could be winched open with a ship's wheel. Hiccup wondered how they fed the thing. Then he wondered if they _had_.

"Big, isn't it?" commented Alvin dryly.

It gave a low whine as the humans stopped before it, echoing through the cavernous chamber like whalesong. Hiccup tried to shake off his awe and stick to his plan. But the sheer size of the thing was reducing him to speechlessness.

"It's a dragon that lives only in the Mare Internum," said Alvin, smiling with vindictive satisfaction at Hiccup's stupefaction. "The Greeks call it Orionos, after the giant son of Poseidon. Not that you know who that is, but it's one Hel of a cool name for the Roman Army's most destructive force yet. It'll be our chief weapon, a dragon so huge and powerful that none of the rabble of Gaul or Germania or Britannia or - dare I say?- _Vikingdom_ can stand against it and live. And you're going to train it for us, aren't you proud?"

Hiccup swallowed his shock as best he could. "Her," he said hoarsely.

Alvin blinked. "What?"

"She's a she," Hiccup said in a stronger voice. "See the narrower tail and the length of her hind legs? She's a girl."

Alvin snorted. "Like that matters. _It_ is a _weapon_. The biggest weapon anyone has ever possessed."

"How am I supposed to train a dragon that can barely see me and can't even move?" Hiccup said a little shrilly, his throat aching around the words.

"That," Alvin said with a slow, malicious smile, "is your problem, isn't it?"

Agrippina looked quite remarkably bored with them. "Get him to work," she drawled in her sneering Latin, and pursed her lips thoughtfully. "And get him to make things to control it," she added.

"My lady," Alvin bowed once more as the woman turned on her heel to leave.

"And remember, barbarian," she called sweetly as she left, not deigning to even look back, "not a word of this to touch my son. Understand? Or you will wish it were _you_ who had been sold into slavery."

Alvin paled a little, but kept his composure as the woman left.

"Trouble in paradise?" Hiccup said sarcastically, and Alvin growled at him.

"None of your business, Golden Boy. You're to make a harness for the thing as well."

Hiccup gawked. "There isn't enough leather in the _world_."

"Then you'll have to use something else, won't you?" the conman folded his arms.

"Have you even fed her?" Hiccup demanded. "If she's starving, how do you know she won't just eat me on the spot the minute that vice comes off?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, there'll be something sent down," he said airily, before spinning Hiccup roughly and beginning to cut his bonds. "There's a makeshift workshop in the next room," he continued in a terser voice. "You won't be able to get out, by the way. It's this room, or that one and that's it. Food will come once a day. I'll send some cattle down for the Orionos. I'll be visiting you every afternoon to check your progress, and if I don't like what I see then we're going to start cutting even _more_ limbs off. I'm sure Gracchanus will be ecstatic."

He pulled the ropes away from Hiccup's wrists, and smiled grimly. "Hurry now, Hiccup," he said softly, darkly. "Chop, chop."

Hiccup took a wild swing at him, but missed and fell heavily on the floor. His ribs were screaming in protest. Alvin laughed and wiggled his fingers in a nonchalant farewell as he sauntered after the Empress.

The door shut so quietly behind him that Hiccup didn't even have the satisfaction of hating the sound of his recapture.

* * *

There was no way in Midgard that he could sew enough leather to create a harness for the giant dragon. He felt for her. She moaned and groaned constantly – no doubt in her prime she would definitely be well enough to snap the ropes like spiderwebs, but she was thin and sickly. Occasionally her mammoth shoulders shifted uncomfortably under her bonds.

He had begun on a rope harness. It would seat thirty people easily and there was far more dragon available to sit on, Urd knew, but he was running out of rope. The rest was needed for the ox pulley.

It was colder than Jotunheim in the cavernous rooms. Hiccup had thought it would be impossible to be cold in Rome, but he had shivered all night. Perhaps it was also his wounds, but he suspected that he was underground and the day's heat had no chance to soak into the stone. The bundle of cloths and rags he had turned into a makeshift bed were completely insufficient, and he had woken himself up several times with his trembling. So he greeted the next day (at least, he _guessed_ it was day) achy and tired-eyed and chilled through, his side throbbing dully. He didn't dare take off his bandages. Wasting the salve that Lysippos had last applied struck him as a bad idea; besides, there were no clean cloths to replace them with.

And yet _again_, not enough water for a bath, barely even enough for a cursory wash. If he ever got home, it was going to be wash-day every day for a _year_.

His plan ticked away in the back of his mind. It would be hard on the dragon, and Odin knew he felt bad enough for her. But he could see no other way.

He began by fashioning a toga. He'd surreptitiously studied what Alvin wore in that last unpleasant interview, and suspected it didn't matter if it wasn't entirely perfect. Just so long as the dragon could vaguely make it out. He stitched together the lighter-coloured rags and draped it over himself, judging it to be good enough. Next he pulled together the leather scraps and made a mock-up of a legionnaire's uniform. The fake helmet gave him an exorbitant amount of trouble – it was tricky to make it out of leather and metal bands, and he wished fervently for Rufus' forge. The uniform wasn't as easy as the toga (the needle broke twice) and it wasn't as good either, and no doubt it looked ridiculous, but the dragon's eyesight was poor. He wasn't trying to make a masterpiece, after all. It would pass.

Lastly he grabbed a barrel of charcoal and smeared it all over himself and the ragged tunic that Plotina had given him. Judging himself ready, he turned to the gigantic creature and let out a slow breath.

"Here goes," he mumbled nervously, his skin clammy and his breath shaky. "Astrid my darling, this is definitely the biggest 'something crazy' I've ever done."

He slowly walked to the giant dragon with his heart hammering in his chest and delicately, gently, _softly_, he laid a hand on her vast face.

She moaned pitifully, the sound reverberating over and over, and he hushed her in his most soothing voice. "Shhh, girl, easy. It's okay. Promise it's okay. Look at me, that's it – look at me. Good girl."

An eye the size of a cartwheel rolled and focused on him, bright black and shiny. He smiled, carefully not showing his teeth, patting her face some more. "Hey there," he said softly. "Who's a good incredibly enormous girl, then?"

She groaned again, deep and mournful. She was definitely hungry, and no doubt she missed the sea. At least she wouldn't be feeling the cold the way Hiccup was. He patted her face some more, and then reached as high as he could to scratch the side of her wagon-sized snout. She blinked and the groan turned into a subsonic grumbling noise that Hiccup recognised as a purr.

"That's it," he encouraged. "You like me, that's right. I'm a friend. See what I look like?" He stepped back a couple of feet, and turned so she could take him in. The purr lightened into the audible range and turned into a questioning whine that bounced off the walls, and her eye fixed on him, curiosity glinting in the pitch-dark depths.

"Now girl," he said, to himself rather than to her. "Let's get to work."

He brought his hand up again to her snout, letting her smell his charcoal-smeared hands. The slitted nostrils twitched and he let her smell him some more, even as he resumed scratching. He kept talking to her in a low voice, reassuring her constantly, and began to walk around her huge, prone body, scratching and petting and soothing as he went.

Alvin had sent a pair of ox carcasses to the makeshift workshop late in the night – well, again he _guessed_ it was night. The three guards (he didn't think they were soldiers) tossed the still-warm and bloody bodies straight into the chamber, and Hiccup had had to slap his hand over his mouth to keep from losing the meagre contents of his stomach. Which incidentally had been turning itself inside out with hunger. Though he wasn't feeling hungry after that revolting wake-up call.

It had taken some doing, but he had managed to rig a pulley between the oxen and the other chamber, one that would hopefully drag them to the dragon without him having to do it and pull open his wounds. He began to yank on the ropes, and to his immense gratitude he heard the bodies begin to shunt along the ground from the other chamber to their destination before the dragon's head. He sighed in relief, still pulling, and began to study the immense vice-like clamp that held her jaws together.

This could be dangerous.

The spoked wheel on the side looked almost like that on a well-drill, though the chain was attached to the massive notched steel pole that kept the two vice-sections together. There was a rope that pulled the chain away from the pole, which would force the top section of the clamp to drop heavily back onto her snout. He winced, not liking that idea, but he didn't see any alternative. Hiccup paused for a breather when the two oxen bounced grotesquely into position, his hand pressed over the stinging in his wounded side.

"Pain," he croaked. "Still my most favourite thing _ever_."

Hobbling over to the dragon, he patted, scratched and soothed her some more, making sure he stayed either in her direct sight or before her nose. He wanted her to pick up as much of the charcoal-scent as possible. Finally he took two handfuls of it, and swallowing hard, threw it all over the dead oxen. Then he turned back to the winch.

"This is not the most intelligent thing I've ever done," he muttered, and began to turn.

The notched pole rose slowly, creaking. He lifted it just high enough so that the dragon could loosen her jaws, though as her gigantic body was still pinned securely to the floor she wasn't able to get her head clear of it. He spoke calming nonsense at her as she began to dimly understand that she could open her mouth, and he cringed as he saw her phenomenally huge chest begin to expand.

_Oh boy, in for it now._

He ran awkwardly for the dubious shelter of the columns that lined the walls, and braced himself to be cooked to a crispy golden brown. But the blast never came.

The dragon instead let out a distressed cry, a massive echoing wail, and stretched her neck out as far as it would go. Her giant jaws couldn't push past the gap in the now-open vice, and he saw her dilemma. Hiccup had provided food; She couldn't eat the food. She couldn't even reach it.

"Poor girl," he said with a rush of relief and pity. "Boy you scared me – don't you do that again!"

He cautiously made his way over to her again, talking the whole way in soft Norse. "Hey, girl, it's only me, just coming over here, gotta get you some breakfast don't we? No eating me, hey? And no barbequeing me either, I don't think I'd be a fan of that. What'll I call you, anyway? I can't just call you 'girl' – maybe 'Blue'? You like that one? Or Jormungand, that suits you pretty well, but it's probably a bit insulting. Hey, you're a water dragon though, aren't you? I got it, I'll call you Rusalka. Yeah. You're a bit… statuesque to be a water nymph, but you _are_ very pretty. Rusalka. You like that? There's a good monster dragon, just little ole me coming over to push the big dead cows over to you…" Hiccup continued on in this vein as he crept over before her questing head, and rolled the first ox over towards her, grunting when he pulled at the slice over his ribs.

Her mouth opened again, and Hiccup briefly glimpsed a cave full of _oooohhh gods that's a lot of very sharp teeth_ before her jaws came down on the ox and before he could blink, it was gone. Her purr began again; too deep to hear, he felt it in the sole of his foot and in the soft bones of his ears. He gulped a bit, trying to still his pattering heart. Those teeth had been serrated and there had been several rows, like the sharks that sometimes got caught in fishing nets.

The really alarming difference being, of course, that each one had been _as tall as Hiccup himself_.

He didn't really want to be at this end of those teeth, ever again.

He rolled the other ox over, and stood to the side of her snout, gripping his burning side as Rusalka snapped it up too. He gently began to scratch at her face some more, and she lidded her eyes with delight.

She was soon asleep, her body so malnourished that even what must have been a relatively paltry meal of two oxen made her drowsy. He nodded to himself. This would work.

He crept into the other chamber, careful not to wake her, and pulled off his tunic and wiped the charcoal from himself as best he could with his meagre amount of drinking water and one of the filthy cloths. Then he pulled on his makeshift legionnaire's uniform and steeled himself.

This wasn't going to be his finest moment.

Picking up the last thing he'd made (the thing he barely even wanted to think of), he crept back into Rusalka's chamber and closed his eyes, saying a silent apology to Toothless who would no doubt hate what he intended to do now. Then he yanked on the clamp's rope, hard as his wounds allowed, and the heavy top section came crashing down onto the sleeping Rusalka's nose, clamping her mouth shut once more.

She woke with a muffled screech that pierced his eardrums and made his eyes water. He was probably going to be hearing that a month from now.

He picked up the _thing_ with trembling hands - and he cracked the whip.

She bellowed, her black eyes wild, but Hiccup had moved to stand where she could only see a little of him, and he'd ensured that she could only truly pick him out when he was directly before her eyes. All she could make out, with her deep-sea blindness, was the shape of a legionnaire.

Not much he could do about his scent, but he'd made sure that she would associate the smell of charcoal with kindness and food. He yelled and bashed his metal foot against a pile of scraps he'd assembled for that purpose, and watched her eyes roll in alarm as it discombobulated her completely. She moaned in fear as he cracked the whip some more. He couldn't bear to let it touch her, even though he knew that in order to drive the conditioning home he really should. But it wasn't in him to hurt her, not really. Just frighten her…

…and it might just save her life, and his.

He yelled every bit of Latin the Briton had taught him at the top of his lungs, knowing that between the crashing of the metal and the cracking of the whip and the hollering of his voice her sensitive ears were probably in agony. And that wasn't even counting the echoes that bounced from the colonnades, including the piercing reply of her own shriek of dismay. Hiccup kept it up for as long as he could, probably for over an hour, before her eyes rolled back one last time and she slumped to the ground.

Hiccup clanged and cracked for a few more minutes to be on the safe side, then stopped, panting, and regarded her sadly.

"Sorry, Rusalka," he whispered. Then his eyes closed heavily and he hung his head. "Sorry, Toothless," he breathed miserably.

And went to go put the toga on to scare her once more.

Alvin only stayed to gloat for a moment that afternoon – well, he expected it was afternoon, considering Alvin's words the preceding day. He seemed aloof and distracted, though grudgingly impressed by Hiccup's oxen-pulley. Hiccup showed him the rudimentary rope harness after some fairly convincing sulking, and Alvin demanded a way to direct the dragon's head. Hiccup sighed, and asked for more rope, fire, a hammer, an anvil, more oxen, and was it too much to ask to have a blanket at night? Alvin sneered some more, and said he'd be getting the tools and the oxen. The blanket would be provided if he behaved.

Hiccup stared daggers into his back as he left, and scurried off to put his toga back on the second the door whispered shut.

By the end of the day (gods, he would have _loved_ to know if he was right about that) he had been the toga-wearing Roman three times, the Legionnaire four times and the charcoal-smeared Hiccup three times. He finished up as himself, murmuring in Norse and raising the horrid steel muzzle again, and she practically crooned in fear and pressed her giant cheek against him. He pressed his forehead against her massive scales, feeling the immense bone beneath. He'd frightened her so thoroughly as the Legionnaire and the Roman that now she was almost frantically desperate for the kindness Hiccup showed when he smelled of charcoal. He felt sick and sad and miserable. He hated himself in that moment, stroking her cheek and murmuring false comfort. He'd deliberately brutalised her, frightened her and disoriented her. He was as manipulative as Alvin.

"I'm sorry, girl," he murmured into the deep blue scale as wide as his armspan. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Not the next day, though. The next day, he planned to do it all again.

* * *

_Agrippina (16 AD - 59 AD) was a prominent member of the Julio-Claudian Royal Family. She was the sister of the mad Emperor Caligula, mother of the Emperor Nero, and both the niece and the fourth wife of the Emperor Claudius. She was a ruthless, dominating and determined woman. Most evidence suggests that she was responsible for the poisoning of Claudius in 54AD._

_I loves my Roman History *g*_


	14. Chapter 14

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Review time! And perhaps I should move these responses to the bottom of the page - but IDK, what do you think?

**tiredman:** Ah, that would explain it - I'm on the other side of the world! **story master:** Thank you for that, and not to worry, no harm done. Have you set up a profile yet? Message me (the inbox function) when you have! **Foxy's Girl: ** Hiccup _is_ a massive genius! And I think I might be able to surprise you a couple more times, but yes, you can probably see the shape of the idea! Love your reviews, always! *mwah* **Voldyne: **I know, the idiots! Oh well, even an evil slippery conman for hire makes a few mistakes, and random chance could always step in and mess everything up... **the Incredible Puba: **Thanks! Glad you enjoyed! **Clockwork Mockingbird: **Poor Rusalka (saphie calls her a giant abused puppy), and poor Hiccup. It's making him sick at heart to have to do it. *g* I was thinking of Bugs when I wrote it - and I can't help but think it in his voice! Alvin and Hiccup have an awful lot in common, and Alvin was certainly drawn to Hiccup during his deception as someone who _understood._ Alvin doesn't get along even with his allies, as we see. But then, Agrippina is a class-A evil cow. **Lady Khaldz: **Here you go! Lots of Astrid! We don't go so long without seeing her again, promise. **Slicer: **Thank you for the apology - and apology accepted. Thank you for reading my stories, I'm glad you enjoyed them. I'm considering a third story in a trilogy, but I'll probably have a little rest first. This has been quite the effort! **Negra:** (It's the first one *wink*) Thank you so very much, and I'm beyond stoked that you like the historical details! And oh my, I don't think I've quite got the chops to write a novel yet - but fanfiction is wonderful practice! **Ze Great Camicazi: **We should definitely start a Kill-Alvin Army! And I didn't know that he and Hiccup were cousins? I always thought it was Snotlout who was Hiccup's cousin. A big and twisty family indeed! **childofthestorm:** They should all stand in a circle and take pot-shots at him. Grr, Alvin. And poor, poor Hiccup! *shudder* I know. I find Agrippina somewhat terrifying. Just remember that historically, karma gets her. **Kat: **Oh my, wow *massive, massive blush* I find it crazy to deal with that much praise! Thank you SO much! (I WISH THERE WAS A GIANT SQUID IN THIS STORY) And Hiccup was quartered back at Plotina and Balbus' house in the last chapter. As Hiccup's former owner, Balbus would have had to take responsibility for him. Claudius is the one who mentions it. *g* **strider714:** Oh, I hear you SO much. I've done a lot of theatre in my time *puts on old wise sage hat* and I know the awful hours. Hope the bump-in went ok, and best of luck for your production! And remember that history gets Agrippina in the end! **darkmaster7987: **The game is afoot, as Sherlock Holmes would say! And oh, Alvin is a villain I love to hate. He's the anti-Hiccup! **Leon Woon: ***g* I love Rusalka. I didn't actually think so much about the lighting - let's pretend there are a few torches, to salve my cringing pride! I always adore your reviews, and lovely to hear from you again!

Astrid time!

* * *

They were quite close now, perhaps only two days sailing from Ostia. Astrid could feel his nearness in the tingle of her fingertips and toes. It was excruciating to wait.

On the upside, it gave her a little longer to hide belowdecks.

So, yeah. Popping had happened.

Astrid sighed, trying to pull her armoured shirt further down over the round swell of her belly. It rode up at the hem as if defying her, displaying an inch of taut, curved skin. It was irritating and annoying and inconvenient and awkward, and she looked _preposterous_.

She was five months along now, and though the popping hadn't happened before, growth had been fairly steady. This was the first time the kid had taken her by surprise. The Gothi hadn't been lying when she said it was unexpected. She'd woken up that morning and gaped at herself.

"Whoa, Astrid," Tuff had gawked at her when she stormed defiantly on to the deck.

"Someone had a growth spurt," Phlegma said archly. "Come on dear, don't be cross. Had to happen sooner or later. You'll be feeling the quickening any day now."

Astrid had growled at them both and gone to brood in the bow with Toothless. The Night Fury had known better than to stare at her, but continued his vigil of the seas. Since their flight during the pirate attack, Toothless had taken her flying every two or three days. Now with the Tiny Haddock getting somewhat less Tiny, she had no doubt that their excursions would be curtailed. That would upset the dragon no end – he'd loved flying again, even if she wasn't anywhere near Hiccup's standard at working the tailfin.

Her shirt would have to go. She needed something else. She didn't have anything else. Oh rapture and joy. Maybe she could borrow a tunic from Fishlegs. Or even Stoick. She leaned forward as much as the hard bulk would allow and rested her forehead in her hands.

"Hey," came Ruffnut's voice, and Astrid looked up crossly.

"What?" she barked, and then regretted it. She was even touchier than usual. It was insane, how easily she became irritated or even livid now. Thankfully she hadn't gotten weepy. She would have had to isolate herself until she regained sanity.

Ruffnut looked pensive, a folded piece of cloth in her hands, not flicking an eyelash at Astrid's sharp tone. "Soooo, I made this thing here," she said in her usual bored way, " but I'm guessing now's not a good time?"

Astrid grimaced. "Look, sorry Ruff. I'm just…"

"A bit more Astrid than usual, we get it," Ruff sat down beside her, rumpling the cloth absently. "Phlegma had this, right, big talk with us about how you might turn into a dragon or a puddle at any moment. So far all you've really done is kill a few people and torch a ship. Which, y'know, is still pretty _you_."

She smiled faintly. "Oh good, I was worried that it might be an overreaction. Sorry, what did you make?"

Ruffnut seemed to shake herself out of her distraction and held up the cloth she'd brought. It was a loose smock, square-necked, in a light material. "I asked Phlegma about it," she said critically. "She thought light stuff would be better, seeing as we're in such a hot place and you'd get way too uncomfortable in wool. She also said you'd grow out of it, but I figure that's Hiccup's baby so no _way_ are you gonna get _that_ big. I have a silver riding on it, so don't eat too much," she added, and Astrid smiled hugely at her friend.

"You are the very, very best, Ruff," she said sincerely.

"Oh I know," Ruff said loftily. "But my buttelf brother keeps denying reality."

"No, really," Astrid said, still grinning. "Thank you so much. I was mortified - I mean, I was _furious_ this morning…"

"Hmm?" Ruff glanced down, and her eyebrows shot up. "You'll have stretched that," she noted, and Astrid rolled her eyes.

"Kind of the last thing on my mind right now," she said dryly, and Ruffnut grunted in acknowledgement, reaching her hand up to pat the immobile Toothless.

Astrid pulled the smock over her shirt, and wriggled the shirt off underneath it. It was still quite big – but she still had four months to go, so it was entirely probable Ruffnut was going to lose her silver. She rested a hand on her belly pensively and leaned back against the rail. "That," she said as she looked down at herself, "is _so _much better."

"I made it long so you can just wear your leggings underneath," Ruffnut said absently, still patting Toothless. "Nice to pat him sometimes. I miss Sindri and Brokk. Mostly Sindri."

"I miss Spike," Astrid offered. She really did. Talking to Spike was still a highlight of her day.

Ruffnut was silent for a moment, and then she blurted, "I missed my wedding day."

Astrid turned to her friend, eyes widening. She'd known, of course, but Ruff hadn't seemed all that upset about missing the opportunity to marry Fishlegs at harvest. It had passed perhaps a month and a half ago, and neither had mentioned it at all. "I thought you weren't…" she began, and Ruffnut dropped her face against her knees, her hands pressed against her eyes.

"Yeah, well," she mumbled. "That was before…"

"Ruff?" Astrid put a hand on Ruffnut's back and rubbed gently, wondering what to do. This motherly advice thing she'd been forced to try seemed to work a lot better on the boys – but Ruff was a friend now. She'd actually become a real friend on their journey, not just 'the other girl their age' she'd been back in Berk. With a jolt, Astrid realised she'd truly let go of her resentment against Ruffnut for her part in the debacle before her wedding.

Once she'd realised that, the way was suddenly clear. She pulled Ruffnut up and wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm sorry you gave that up for us."

"No, no, no!" Ruffnut shook her head, but her hands clung to Astrid's back immediately. "I mean, yeah, you were about to say I didn't seem all that crazy sad about missing the wedding when we started out. Which is, uh, true. Besides, y'know, it was an adventure, and no _way_ was Tuff going on an adventure and _not me_. But we started talking, actually hanging out, just me and 'Legs. Most mornings, sometimes after dinner. Astrid, he… he writes every night, did you know? How many new stars he spotted, what kinds of fish, any whales, the different kinds of rock in the shoreline. He knows it _all_. He can tell me the names of any gulls we saw, and like, this one's plus ten speed and that one's plus eight beak strength… and he… He _killed_ all those pirates because he thought I was hurt, and he thinks my hair is prettier than Tuff's and he's funny when he's scared. He's a _berserker_ and he's terrified of spiders. I mean, isn't that just so _Fishlegs?_" she finished with a little crack in her voice, and her head dropped onto Astrid's shoulder.

Astrid held her tighter. "You're in love, you idiot," she said gently.

Ruffnut peered up at her with dawning dismay. "Oh _gods_, that is totally _such_ bad timing," she said in a horrified tone.

"You're telling _me?_" Astrid said wryly, her eyes pointedly flicking down to her belly and back, and Ruffnut snorted.

"You have a point," she said. Then she buried her head in Astrid's shoulder again. "I don't know what to do," she gritted.

"You can give me my shoulder back, it's going numb," Astrid suggested, and Ruffnut huffed dramatically and sat up, though Astrid kept her arm around her friend.

"I just…" Ruffnut broke off and rolled her eyes. "I don't _do_ this mushy stuff. Worry about what a boy thinks of me. Worry if he's sad we missed the wedding. Worry about how he feels. That is _not_ me." She peeked sidelong at Astrid. "Did _you_ feel like that?"

"Oh yes," Astrid said bluntly. "Still do. All the time. But he just became more important than my stupid Viking pride. Which I still have, don't you forget it, but he's…" she looked down for a moment, and then decided to give the best example she could.

"You know after Hiccup found out about the bet, he was furious with me," she said in the most conversational tone she could manage. Ruffnut stiffened immediately, and Astrid hurriedly continued. "This is _not_, repeat, _not_ a bash at you. It's more a bash at me – and sweet Freyr did I deserve it. I thought he'd never speak to me again."

"You got married like, a week later!" Ruffnut accused, and Astrid held up her hand.

"Yeah, but it was a close thing. I had to get over my stubborn refusal to admit that I have those stupid human emotion things, and really _talk_ to him about why I did it, what I felt, what I was feeling right then. And then he talked to me about, well, same thing." She cleared her throat uncomfortably, not really wanting to tell another person about Hiccup's anxieties about his foot. "So go talk to him, Fishlegs, I mean, not Hiccup – and not about stars or spiders, but about how you feel about him now you've had a bi—did you just _poke _me?"

Ruffnut had been nodding reluctantly along to Astrid's words, but sat up straighter at her last indignant question. "No," she said defensively, and wiggled both her free hands in Astrid's face. "See? In front of me the whole time."

Astrid frowned. "I could have sworn someone jus… oh!"

Something had pressed her in the side again, and her eyes met Ruff's. "Um," she said, incredibly embarrassed but also incredibly thrilled.

"Oh go on," Ruff said with resigned humour.

Astrid whipped her arm off Ruffnut's shoulders and pressed her hands to the firm dome of her belly. Nothing.

"I could have _sworn_…" she muttered, and sighed. "Sorry Ruff. I guess it was a false alarm."

Ruffnut shrugged. "Don't worry about it. What were you saying?"

Astrid tried to regather her thoughts. "Uh… oh, yeah, just talk to him. I know it's hard. Hel, I couldn't even look at his face, I stared into a stream the whole time. But if I can do it, you can. We're shieldmaidens, we're brave. Say what you just told me. That it wasn't your choice before we set sail, but now it is. Get him to talk to you too. The guy's been sweet on you for almost a year, missing the wedding has got to have been a big deal for him."

Ruffnut's brow shot up. "A _year_?"

"A year," Astrid repeated solemnly, and nudged Ruff. "So he thinks your hair is prettier than Tuff's?" she asked, amused.

"Yeah, shut up already," Ruffnut ducked her head, embarrassed, before blowing out a deep breath and looking back up at Astrid. "Thanks."

"No problem," Astrid replied, honestly glad she could help.

"_Sooooo_ glad I have a friend who's gone through all this stuff – and now with the baby and all. You've always got to come first in any race, don't you?" said Ruffnut good-humouredly, and Astrid shrugged, assuming a lofty expression.

"I like to win," she said smugly, and Ruff grinned.

"You always do," she said firmly, and looked out at the angry, roiling clouds. "We'll get him back, Astrid."

Astrid cleared her throat. "I know we are. Of course we are. And then I'm going to _kill_ him."

"I think you said 'kiss' wrong," Ruffnut said archly, and Astrid surprised herself by letting out a choked laugh.

"That too," she said with a half-smile, and then gasped.

_There_.

"Oh Frigga," she breathed, and her hand crept under the curve of her stomach.

It was a fluttering sensation, as though she'd swallowed a panicked bird; a sense of something delicate and uncoordinated pressing and moving within her. She could _feel_ it. She pressed down against her belly, trying to feel the strange little flickerings against her palm.

And something _pushed back_.

"Ruff, Ruff, you have to feel this!" she sat up straighter and grabbed Ruffnut's hand, pressing it against the same spot. In less than a second, a sharp tap against her insides under Ruff's hand told her that the other girl had felt it too.

"That's your baby?" she said in a slightly stupid-sounding voice.

"That's my baby!" Astrid grinned wider than she'd ever grinned in her life. Her baby was _alive_. He or she – well, he or she was _a he or she_ and that was terrifying as all get-out in itself, but _they_ were fine and she could feel them kick! There was a _person_ there now! She'd reached the quickening, and her child was _alive_. She felt like flying – no, she was already flying.

Ruffnut grinned back at Astrid as the feather-light taps and tickles began to move, taking her hand off Astrid and lacing her fingers together behind her head. "Congrats, you fishing basket you," she smirked, and Astrid laughed, before looking down again, her hand chasing the movements under her skin.

"Hey, Tiny Haddock," she said softly. "Hey there. No more making me eat weird stuff, okay? Snotlout can only turn so many shades of green."

Ruffnut snickered, and Astrid giggled a bit goofily, wondering how Hiccup would react when he could feel the fluttering of their baby inside her. He should have been here, not Ruff, she thought suddenly, but threw it from her mind immediately. No good thinking like that.

A rumble from Toothless made her head whip round, and she looked at the dragon curiously. "Hey big guy," she said fondly. "Something up?"

Toothless turned to her with wide, alarmed eyes, before looking back to the horizon. The bank of boiling grey that had blocked out the day's sun had turned black and threatening, and was closing in rapidly. "Ah, no," she said under her breath. "Thor's hammer is about to come down on our arses."

"I'll go tell the Chief, he's below," Ruff stood and looked out at the oncoming storm, her face grim. "It looks to be bad. We need to drop anchor."

"It's moving fast," Astrid stared at it expressionlessly, also standing. Then something on the portside bow caught her eye. "Wait… is that land?"

"Think we can beat the storm there?" Ruffnut looked sceptical.

Astrid peered at it. "I don't know," she admitted. "We dropped our pirate friend at that big island three days ago (1), so that has to be the right peninsula. But who knows what kind of welcome we'll get if we dock there…"

"Who knows what kind of welcome we'll get anywhere around here?" Ruff said sourly, and turned and ran towards the hatch.

Astrid gave the storm and the shadowed land one last glance, before walking over to the rudder where Gobber was chatting to Hensteeth.

"An' _then_ the troll says, 'oh but Mister Viking, I don't have any of your socks!' Naturally, I don't believe the slippery little bugger, so I rattle him upside down until - yes, Astrid? What… oooh." Astrid had simply pointed at the wall of angry black clouds screaming down on them.

Hensteeth scratched at his head and said in his slow, deep voice, "Reckon that's not such a promisin' sign."

"I reckon you're right," Gobber said apprehensively. "Ran's goin' to have herself quite the bounty tonight, but we'll see what we can do about stayin' out of her net. Snotlout, Tuffnut, Fishlegs! Stop working on your tans an' snap to it!"

"What?" Snotlout exclaimed in annoyance, but his face promptly fell when he followed Gobber's meaningful stare.

"Uh, that's a supercell thunderstorm comprised of cloud towers, which are a small amount of cumulus and perhaps ninety percent cumulonimbus and the way it's coming towards us is called a shelf-cloud and I _really_think we should get out of here," Fishlegs said in one breath.

"No way? You mean we're going to run? From some pesky little clouds?" Tuffnut sniggered and crossed his arms.

Snotlout looked less convinced, but he chimed in with his best friend. "Yeah? I mean, right, we're Vikings! _Clouds_, guys? Seriously?"

"Supercell thunderstorms regularly create havoc at sea and cause serious and irreparable damage to ships," said Fishlegs hotly. "The characteristics include heavy precipitation, gale-force winds, occasional hail, frequent lightning strikes and waves of over twenty feet high. I estimate our chances of survival in a supercell thunderstorm are on the highly pessimistic side."

"Yeah well… so's your face!" Snotlout retorted awkwardly. He doubled over sharply with an 'oof!' when Ruff then punched him in the stomach.

"I don't intend to do any drowning today," Astrid said pointedly. "Stay here by all means if you want, but I think we should make for that land," she nodded to the dark shore.

"Astrid, that storm's goin' to reach us long before we reach that shore," Hensteeth rumbled, and her back stiffened as she nodded.

"I know," she said, "but we've got a better chance over there than here. We're the only thing for miles in this sea. How long do you think it will take for us to be struck by lightning?"

"That is something I do not wish to experience," said Tuff in a strangled voice.

"Chief'll decide," said Phlegma, strapping her spear to her back. "You should all go tie things down. Also you lot, don't forget to pad your weapons before you strap them to your back. Once knew a man who forgot an' then the silly duffer went and jumped from the rigging. He didn't have the bonniest of vacations."

Astrid nodded sharply and began to make her way to the hatch, but Phlegma caught her arm. "Stay close to that dragon, an' put his rig on," she hissed, and Astrid swallowed. Once she would have bristled, but after feeling the Tiny Haddock move… well.

"Right," she said firmly, and Phlegma let her go.

She ran to the little corner she'd claimed for herself in the hold and wrapped her axe in as many clothes as possible. She tied her hair back again as firmly as she was able, and pulled off her leather skirt and threw it aside, standing in her leggings, the new smock and her boots. Finally she grabbed Toothless' gear and ran as fast as she was able up to the dragon. His low whine stretched on and on unceasing.

She buckled his fin on in silence, her fingers clumsy in her haste, and he didn't even take his eyes from the cloudbank as he lifted his legs for her to fasten the saddle-straps. She patted his head wordlessly, and he leaned his scaled shoulder against hers for a moment, the whine deepening. She sighed, and picked up Hiccup's flying tunic and pulled in on. It was a _lot_ tighter. The fluttering feeling started again, and she bit her lip as her eyes closed. "Not now, sweetheart," she muttered to the Tiny Haddock pleadingly. It was just her luck that moments ago she'd have been content to sit and feel the baby turning over within her for hours, and now she didn't have the luxury of time. The kid seemed just as mulish as she was though, and the trapped-butterfly feeling continued. She shook her head and picked up her swathed axe, binding it to her back as tightly as she could. It was no good to her if it came off, after all.

The surly roll of thunder rumbled through the air, and the first few drops began to hit Astrid's face. The wind had picked up, and she was glad she'd spent the time to tie her hair back again. She patted Toothless once more and made her way over to where Stoick had taken the tiller from Gobber.

"What's the plan?" she shouted over the whistling wind.

"We head for land!" he bellowed back. "You with the dragon then?"

She nodded and braced herself against the wind, which was picking up its pace at an alarming rate. "Where do you need us?" she shouted.

"Stay where he is," he roared back, "look out for any rocks as we come ashore!"

She nodded again, and pulled herself hand over hand towards the bow of the ship again. The wind was blowing a gale now, screaming in her ears, and she had to squint against the scattered raindrops that struck her face like an anvil. She fell heavily against the dragon and he nosed at her worriedly. She managed to get in front of him, and his wing curled around her protectively.

"We have to make sure the way is clear to shore," she shouted up at him. The Night Fury's eyes were wide and darting with alarm at the rapidly worsening weather, but he made a little croon of assent and craned his head out over the water again. Astrid let out a shuddering breath, cocooned inside Toothless' wing. The Tiny Haddock fluttered again. Perhaps it was sensitive to the weather, and that was why it had decided on today to wake up? She shook the thought away and scratched the itchy stretched skin absently as she watched the ominous clouds scud overhead with a sense of trepidation.

The first real crack of thunder was shatteringly loud, and Astrid involuntarily gasped. Berk was no stranger to bad weather; hailstorms and blizzards were very common occurrences, but the sheer dramatic ferocity of this storm was unsettlingly new and different to the often-silent white death that fell in the North. She closed her eyes and said a short but fervent prayer to Thor to pass over them, to wild Ran to spare them, to her fierce husband Aegir, to Njord the calm old man of the sea. She hoped at least _one_ of them heard her. She gripped at Toothless' foreleg tightly, her heart racing.

The clouds above seemed to boil for a second, before the spattered rain became an impenetrable sheet of crushing silver. Toothless warbled in alarm, his wings opening a little, and the wind caught them and wrenched them shut against Astrid. She cried out as the heavy bone of his humerus slammed against her head, and he let out a small bark of apology, his head ducking within his wing to check she was all right.

She blinked against the water that whipped her face. "Can you see in all that?"

He crooned at her again, and she batted him away. "Yes, yes, I'm fine… but can you see into the water in all that?" she shouted, and he made a questioning rumble, before turning back to the rapidly rising waves.

It was an opaque, churning mass, pocked with the marks of rain and white with the wind whipping it into a frenzy. He peered some more, his great green eyes half-lidding against the spray, his head moving from side to side in increasing agitation. Finally he had to concede a desperate defeat, a moan rumbling through his body. She swallowed hard, and tried to think beyond the screaming of the wind.

The bolt of lightning took them all by surprise. It snaked out of the black sky like the vengeance of an angry god and lashed the tip of the mast faster than any could comprehend. Astrid and Toothless whipped around to see the mast, half on fire and half extinguished by the suffocating rain, tip slowly and inexorably over, crunching through the longship's rail as it went. Snotlout had been standing near it, and he yelled in fright as the mast pulled up the decking under his feet, scuttling back as timber warped and snapped like twigs.

Astrid's eyes fixed on the smouldering mast as it crashed into the frothing, maddened sea, and an idea came to her. A crazy idea. A _Hiccup_ idea.

The roar of thunder boomed in Astrid's ears, and she tugged at Toothless insistently.

"Come on," she yelled. "I've got an idea!"

"Astrid!" Stoick roared when he saw her struggling along the shattered deck to the stern again, Toothless behind her, his claws digging furrows in the wood and his head bracing her body at intervals. "What are you doin'! We need that lizard at the bow!"

"He can't see into the foam!" she shouted, and held onto the dragon as a wave crashed heavily onto the broken deck, spilling through the mast-hole in a torrent. "We're not going to last in this!"

Stoick clung stubbornly to the rudder, his eyes set. "We've got to be gettin' closer!" he shouted back. "We can make it!"

"I want to try something!" she yelled, "before the longship breaks apart!"

Another huge wave swept over them, and Astrid glanced back at where the others clung for dear life to the rails and oar-fixtures. "We don't have any choice!" she barked, and pushed past him, Toothless following as close as thought.

Stoick gritted a prayer to Njord before the snapping of wood brought him back to the moment. The handle of the tiller came away in his hands and he gaped at it before bellowing, "we've lost the rudder! Longship's out of control!"

Astrid pushed Toothless against the rail at the stern, her eyes set and determined. "Right," she said to the dragon, "Hold on as hard as you can!"

The Night Fury pushed his forepaws against the rails and his short, sharp claws latched in. She clung close as another wave almost took her, and in a flash of inspiration clipped the flying harness to Toothless' saddle. That would help.

"Now, I need you to shoot bolt after bolt into the storm!" she yelled. "Push the ship along!"

Toothless blinked and looked down at her incredulously, and she shook his blunt head in frustration. "Just try!" she roared.

His lungs expanded, and she clamped her hands over her head as she felt the dragon grip tighter to the rails. Then a fizzing ball of fire shot from Toothless' mouth, and then another, and then another. She risked a glimpse at the spitting dragon, and to her delight saw that the fire was not being quenched by the torrential rain.

"We're moving!" she heard Gobber shout, and she grinned fiercely as she thumped Toothless in thanks.

"Keep it up!" she crowed. "We're going to do it!"

"That beast's faster than a whole bank of oarsmen!" she heard Spitelout yell in amazement.

The dragon whined a little, before spitting another purple-tinged fireball into the blackness. She wrapped her arm around his tense foreleg, hoping he would be all right. No one had ever tested how many shots a Night Fury _really_ had, and she hoped that poor Toothless wasn't tiring himself out.

"We're gonna make it," she rubbed the scales gently. "You're gonna save us again, Toothless!"

He warbled unhappily, and shot another fireball. She continued to rub his leg and shout encouragement, even as she heard Tuff cry, "hey, I see something over there!"

"Land!" Hensteeth boomed. "Land dead ahead!

"REEF!" Fishlegs suddenly screamed, and everyone was abruptly thrown forwards as the bow struck the submerged rocks with a ripping, tearing crash. Astrid couldn't stop her screech of fright escaping her lips as she was yanked to the end of the leather cord connecting her to Toothless, her head snapping forward and her eyes stinging.

"Is everyone all right?" she heard Phlegma's panicked voice, and a chorus of stunned, panicked calls answered. She could hear Ruffnut babbling in terror, and pulled herself up to see Fishlegs disappearing into the surf.

"Toothless!" she howled, and pointed down into the enormous waves. "Can you get him?"

Toothless had been thrown from the rails to sprawl heavily on his back, and he raised exhausted eyes filled with dread at her, before following her finger down beside the ship. He gave a growl of determination and she clambered onto his back, her fingers fumbling at the saddle.

The take-off snapped her head back this time, and the wind buffeted them back helplessly before she pressed the pedal down. The tension in the line running to his tailfin sang like a harp-string and she squinted against the salty spray that was coming close to blinding her. Fishlegs surfaced again, spluttering, and she called to him frantically. His arms pinwheeled uselessly and he sank again, and she felt Toothless tense. She pressed the pedal back to the last position, and the dragon dived straight as an arrow for the churning water.

The impact as they struck was like hitting a building. She reflexively gasped, taking in a huge mouthful of salt water. She couldn't see a thing in the furious sea, her lungs burning, and hoped that the dragon's keener eyes could make out their friend. Though truthfully most of her attention was on her water-clogged and starved lungs. It seemed ages before Toothless was arching back to the surface, something hanging limply in his mouth. She coughed and hacked convulsively, her fist pressed against her chest, even as she pushed the pedal back and Toothless flapped frantically to a sandy shore not two hundred yards away.

Fishlegs wasn't stirring, and Astrid was trying not to pass out as she practically fell from Toothless' back, her legs shaking. She coughed up some more water and wiped at her face with a trembling hand, before falling to his side and rolling him over.

His fur vest had protected him from the worst of Toothless' teeth, but there were still evenly dotted wounds along the side of his blocky body. She tried to get her heaving under control and dragged him up the sand to the treeline. That would protect him for as long as possible, while they fetched the others.

"Come on!" she screamed at Toothless, before coughing up yet more water. Gods above, she hoped this wasn't hurting her baby – who was churning as fast as the sea. "We have to get the others!"

Toothless gave a near-sob of exhaustion, but dragged himself up and spread his wings slightly as she clambered back on. She clipped herself to the saddle again, and they took off into the storm once more.

"The shore isn't far!" she screamed over the howling wind as they neared the collapsing longship. "We got Fishlegs there! Ruff, Tuff, you first! Climb on!"

The twins clambered behind her onto to Toothless, whose wings were trembling from bracing against the gale, and the poor dragon took off once more. She deposited the pair near Fishlegs' prone body, and Ruffnut threw herself beside him immediately and began to unpack the bundle strapped to her back. Tuff simply collapsed in a shuddering pile.

The next pair were Phlegma and Gobber – and Toothless trembled even more at the additional weight. Neither were small Vikings. They came dangerously close to going underwater again at a particularly violent gust of wind, and Gobber bellowed in alarm even as Phlegma's arms tightened around Astrid.

Next were Snotlout and Hensteeth. Hensteeth looked pale at what had almost befallen his only son. Astrid made sure he was behind her, as the huge man was far too heavy for Toothless to carry past his shoulders. He barely seemed to notice the storm, his eyes fixed on the sandy strip of land – though Snotlout was yelping shrilly at every buffet, every giant wave.

Then Spitelout clambered awkwardly onto Toothless' back - the man wasn't comfortable with riding dragons, and although he wasn't averse to the dragon peace, he found it hard to put aside their tumultuous pasts. He was also strangely timid about touching Astrid, and his hands hovered over her shoulders until they took off, at which point they clamped down tightly. Astrid could barely feel it, what with her chest full of water and her eyes reddened with the salt spray.

Last was Stoick, who had gathered as much as he could carry from the stricken ship and was stuffing it into a sea-bag. "Come on!" she yelled, and he shoved one last sack of grain into the sea-bag and hoisted himself up onto the drooping Night Fury.

"Get us out o' here!" he bellowed.

"Last one, big guy, I promise!" she shouted, lungs burning, to the utterly fatigued Toothless. She could feel the huge flight muscles along his back twitching and spasming, but he crouched and launched himself into the driving rain once more.

And not a minute too soon. A second after they took off, another tongue of lightning smacked into the crumbling longship's raised and cracked bow, and the ship slid from the submerged reef. It tipped almost majestically into the water, where the waves began to pound it to pieces. Astrid blinked away the blinding after-images of the lightning and peered down in horror at the sinking ship.

"Just in time," Stoick said, and swallowed, gripping her shoulder.

"Thank Odin," she said, and coughed again.

She was still coughing when they landed, and the Night Fury did no more than drag himself under a tree before he collapsed in a pitiful heap of wings and scales. Astrid pulled herself free of him and thumped her chest, trying to dislodge the water.

"Ye can't do it like that," Stoick said over the crash of waves on the white shore. "Lie down on your front. No, it won't hurt the baby. Lie down."

She did, though any ridiculousness she might have felt with her back hunched over the mound of her belly was dispersed by the awful aching of her chest. Stoick untied her axe, before his huge hand carefully felt around her shoulderblades, and then thumped once, twice, three times.

She coughed again, and a large amount of water came out of her mouth and nose to mingle with the sopping-wet sand. She rolled over, groaning, and he patted her shoulder gently.

"Phlegma's seein' to Fishlegs. Go down by Toothless. I've got a seal-fur you can have – you've got to keep your lungs warm after that. He'll keep you out o' the worst of it. Go on, try to sleep."

She peered blearily at him through reddened eyes, and practically crawled over to the crumpled form of Toothless. She lifted a wing and tucked herself underneath – and the dragon didn't so much as stir.

"Thanks, big guy," she mumbled, patting clumsily at his face. She vaguely felt hands tuck something rough, scratchy and warm around her, before she was unconscious, her head echoing with the screaming of the wind in the branches overhead.

* * *

(1) Sardinia


	15. Chapter 15

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Lots and lots of reviews! You guys. Aw, you guys!

**Toothless-the-Nightfury:** Eeep, sorry! Have some more Hiccup! And yes, I do wonder sometimes why the dragons are left out. They have no dialogue, but they're so expressive (well, Toothless is!) that they're as much a character as Hiccup or Astrid in my mind. So glad you rate this so highly! Thank you! **Massinvader:** Here we are - more planning Hiccup! Thanks for the review! **Foxy's Girl: ***BLUUUUUSH!* Aw, thank you! I did love writing the scene between the two girls. Moving past their differences and maturing and being friends - woo! **Slicer:** Oh, I hope your cousin is ok, and that's very kind of Story Master. Let him know that it's totally free to sign up! Thank you for the reviews - and apology is completely accepted :) **The Incredible Puba: **Aren't they sweet, those two fierce Viking girls getting mushy over the dork and the geek? SO cute. And whoops, sorry, it's Hiccup today, but I believe (hang on, I'll check! YES) Chapter 16 is an Astrid-chappy! **clockwork mockingbird: **Oh, I'm glad you found it tense! I was hoping the breathlessness and panic of the storm came through. And poor exhausted Toothless, still protecting Astrid! AW. Thank you so much! **Ze Great Camicazi: **Thanks! And WHOA, I had to draw that family tree out, my goodness! Thank you for all that info! I'm kind of going with the movie-verse, assuming that Spitelout is Snotlout's dad because of the resemblance (and I have a different idea for Alvin, as you will see), but the rest is incredibly handy! Thank you! **Voldyne:** I can see the tourism poster now; "Come to Berk! We have dragon-propelled boats!" Thank you, glad you liked! **Romance and Musicals: **I am so, so glad you are enjoying this! And wow, what a compliment! I am blushing fire-engine red, here! (And yeah, Astrid = World's Biggest BAMF. There should be badges!) **Leon Woon: **My research for this has led me in some very strange places! Supercell thunderstorms was one of them *g* Thanks, Fishlegs! And yeah, same idea I had as for Toothless biting off Hiccup's leg in TIHS. He wouldn't be able to grip if his teeth were retracted, and of course, he has no thumbs... so poor Fishlegs, too! **drayconette:** Grrrr, ALVIN. We hate you. We so do! And thank you so much! **strider714: **Oh, you should see my wise old sage hat! It's _stunning. _Best of luck tomorrow/today - sounds exhausting! (Ooooh, Bill Nye!) Yeah, I feel that over the course of 'Talking' and now WIR, Astrid and Hiccup have taken on some of the other's traits, as you naturally do in a marriage. Hiccup is slightly more assertive, and Astrid has become somewhat of a leader. I'm so glad you like the Rufflegs situation! There'll be an update on Val's plight quite soon, and yes, the chapters are going to merge as our rescue party gets closer to Rome. And we haven't seen the last of the Briton! *g* Thank you! **soviet man: **Thank you for your review - I'm sorry it's not to your taste. I hope you enjoyed parts of it, at least! **darkmaster7987: **Thank you, I'm so stoked you found it exciting! Heh, poor Astrid, stuck being Ruff's agony aunt. Such a pushy Tiny Haddock, interrupting the whole time (but yes, very cute!). Well, at least they're in Italy now! They dropped the last pirate survivor on Sardinia, and Italy is the next peninsula east from there. But where oh where in Italy? Hmm, it's a three-pipe problem! ;) **Alluring Alliteration: **It's actually a training technique - many animals, including the large canines, mark their food in some way before they give it to the pack/pride/etc. It tells the gang who the food _really_ came from! And yeah, Brrrr Agrippina! Thank you! **childofthestorm: **Aw, thanks! I'm glad they were cute, I was certainly hoping for that! And AW Tiny Haddock! Well, we're just over halfway through now. I've finished the lot - it's around 26 chapters, if I don't edit it to death as I normally do. Am considering an epilogue of sorts!

Have some more Hiccup!

* * *

Rusalka moaned and shied away as he stepped forward wearing the legionnaire's uniform. He stood there for a second, watching her, and then backed into the other chamber to take it off.

She was ready.

It had been approximately three weeks that he had been trapped in the underground chambers. Hiccup had taken to counting the days by Alvin's visits, marking them off by cutting a line into long piece of leather. The harness was ready and Alvin seemed satisfied by the result. Today's visit Hiccup was to demonstrate how tame the vast beast had become.

Or else.

He changed into his own clothes, dusted himself with charcoal absently, and picked up the harness. Made from spliced and knotted ropes, the harness resembled nothing more than a giant spiderweb when it was spread out, but Hiccup had measured Rusalka and he knew it would fit over her giant shoulders. Each 'seat' was little other than loop of rope to be bound around the rider's waist, with rudimentary stirrups hanging from the connecting lines underneath. There was a bridle of sorts to be fitted over her mammoth head, but Hiccup was unsure as to whether it would actually steer her. It certainly didn't have a mouthpiece or bit. He picked it up as well anyway.

His ribs had healed to a red, angry line just below the scar from his duel with Oglaranna. He'd taken the bandages off eventually as they had started to smell, all the while bemoaning his lack of washing water. The deep cut on his side was more worrisome. It had closed over, but it was hot to the touch and he was deeply afraid that infection had set in. He pressed a hand to it as he walked back to Rusalka's chamber, his heart heavy. The plan was all in readiness, and he could only wait for Alvin now.

Rusalka lifted her head, fear in her shiny black eyes as he re-entered, but she slumped in relief when she saw the charcoal-smeared figure. She crooned, her head pushing against the massive vice, as he dumped the harness and bridle by her side and stepped to the winch, long practice making the chore easy as he freed her head. She looked better after three weeks of regular meals. The Orionos had more colour to her scales, which now gleamed a beautiful midnight blue, and her fins and eyes were glossy with returning health. She hadn't tried to snap her bonds, which told Hiccup that either she wasn't yet strong enough, or she had become conditioned to the idea that they were stronger than she. He hoped it was neither, honestly.

He patted her giant glittering cheek fondly. "Hey girl," he said softly. "Hey, Rusalka. You about ready to do some modelling for me?"

She gave a subsonic purr of adoration, her gargantuan head pressing closer to him. He stretched his hands as high as they would go to scratch at the base of the light blue fin running along her skull, and she purled with delight, the echoes booming and reverberating in the sole of his foot. He smiled, and picked up the harness again.

It was hard work, clambering over her to fit it on. It had been hard work measuring her in the first place, but he had used the giant ship-ropes that kept her bound to the stone floor as a guide. He hauled himself hand over hand, kneeing his way up her side, careful not to bruise her with the metal of his foot. Throwing the harness as far as he could, it slithered along her smooth back like a fishing net. He pulled it back towards her head, and though it stretched and caught on her fins in places, it fit. He smiled and crawled forward to her neck, sprawling over her flat canine-like head, his hands flat against the warm scales.

It was peaceful there, and he could still feel the rumble of her croon as he lay, cheek pressed to the broad expanse of her skull. She was warm with her internal fires, and he'd spent several nights sleeping up there, curled on her head or in the hollow at the nape of her neck. She certainly liked it too, having her charcoal-human stay with her while she slept. He hated that there was a more cynical reason – that she must come to associate him with safety. He wished it simply could have been about two creatures comforting each other in captivity.

He stretched and pushed himself up, rubbing at a scale that had become marked with charcoal briefly, and began the slow slide down her neck to the untied harness again. But a small gasp, clearly audible due to the reverberating chamber, made him pause and turn his head sharply.

In the doorway stood a boy, in a too-large toga.

Hiccup gasped in shock, even as Rusalka began to stir in alarm. "Out!" he yelled in Norse, the echoes bouncing madly through the room, before switching to Latin. "Go! To room other! Go!"

The boy turned tail and ran.

Rusalka was beginning to tremble in fear and a rumbling growl building in her chest was made his teeth judder. He slid as fast as he dared to the harness, throwing the chest-ropes either side hurriedly, before practically falling down the slope of her side to tumble painfully onto the floor. He picked himself up, his side burning, and ran to her head, his hands up.

"Rusalka! Easy, girl, easy!" he soothed, his eyes darting between him and the door to the other room. "Shhh! It's okay, it's okay!"

Her eyes whirled with alarm, but under his ministrations she began to settle, her head slowly lowering to him. He swallowed his shudder as her lips closed over her snarl and all those teeth were hidden from view. Gods, but that wasn't his favourite vista. He splayed himself over her snout, pressing his whole body against her face, and she whined like a whale as she allowed herself to be comforted.

"Not yet, girl," he said softly. "Not just yet, and no kids, hear me?"

Her whine descended in a swift glissando to her usual subsonic purr, and he let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Good girl, Rusalka," he said gently, and scratched the ridge by her nostril, something she loved. Her eyes blinked slowly and then slitted in pleasure, and he smiled. "Good girl."

Leaving the dragon to rest after her fright, he crept back to the other room, scanning the gloom for the small figure in white.

He found the boy crouched by his pile of rags looking at his sketches, and with a start recognised him as the Emperor's son, the younger lad who had saluted him in the Imperial Box at the Octavian Amphitheatre. The boy whipped his head around to stare up at him warily, alerted by the scrape of Hiccup's metal foot. Then he lifted his chin as though steeling himself to walk into fire, and lifted his hand in that same salute.

"Vulcan," he said.

Hiccup found a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he returned the gesture, before sitting down beside the boy. "Hiccup," he said, tapping his chest.

"Britannicus," the boy blurted, before sighing and shaking his head.

Hiccup tilted his head, confused. "Not his naming right?" he asked.

The boy looked startled at Hiccup's attempt at Latin, before shrugging defeat. "My father changed it after the conquest of Britannia. I don't like it. I was named for a great hero, and now I am named for an invasion. It isn't very nice."

Hiccup's eyebrows rose. Romans were obviously crazy, changing people's names around like that. "It isn't very nice," he repeated in agreement. Then he leaned forward to look into the boy's eyes. "How do you in get, Britannicus?" he asked pointedly.

Britannicus gulped and his eyes flickered to the only window in the place – a small hole perhaps a foot wide and six inches deep. Hiccup sighed. He'd tried that, and it was the only time he had cursed his growth spurt in his whole life. It had given him a perfect excuse to use some of Gobber's more colourful language, however.

"What does you here?" he said instead, whilst fighting his crushing frustration.

He fidgeted with the filthy scrap of paper onto which Hiccup had scrawled the bridle's design. "I… I followed my stepmother here yesterday. She's always disappearing, and Pallas makes sure she can't be followed, but he's ill with flux and so I was able to slip my tutor, grab this disguise and sneak after her." The boy bowed his curly blond head, eyes fixing on his fidgeting fingers. "She hates me. She wants me dead. She keeps calling me 'whore's son' and…"

He stopped at Hiccup's hand on his shoulder. "Slow," Hiccup said gently. Although he hadn't understood much of that, it was clear the boy was distressed. "Slow, I do not understand. My bad still speaks. Is Agrippina?"

The boy nodded and clutched at his hand at his shoulder, seemingly heedless of his fine clothes becoming covered in filth. "Yes! My stepmother, Agrippina! Wants me to…" the boy drew his finger across his throat, and Hiccup's hand tightened on the boy's shoulder. That witch. "I followed her," he continued more slowly, pointing at himself and then his fingers walked forwards, "yesterday… do you understand?"

"Yesterday," Hiccup nodded. "I was here uh… three? Yes, three of the weeks. Agrippina and Alvin to take me from Plotina houses. Make dragon Romans to friends, or," and Hiccup copied the boy's gesture, drawing his finger across his throat. The boy winced in sympathy.

"No, I make changing! Making a, a…" Hiccup flailed with the words. He didn't know the word for _trick_ or _plan_, so he attempted to make himself understood with, "is not dragon Romans to friends! I making him not friends."

Hiccup nodded, his brow furrowing. "Britannicus to be danger," he said seriously. "Dragon scare."

The boy's head jerked back in incredulity. "The _dragon's_ scared?"

"You must be smelled of black… black…" Hiccup ran his hand through his hair, before lunging to the almost-empty charcoal barrel and lifting a handful. "Smelled of black, no Roman, no legionnaire…"

"You mean…" the boy looked down at his too large toga in growing understanding – and disappointment. "Oh. You've made it scared of Romans and soldiers…"

There was a light in the boy's face that Hiccup thought he understood. "You meeting dragon?" he asked gently. This was a lonely child, and a frightened one. If he could give Britannicus a friend… or even the wonder he had first felt when he touched Toothless… perhaps it balanced out the horrible necessary cruelty he had inflicted on poor Rusalka.

"But won't she try to fire at me?" the boy said in a shrill voice. "I'm a Roman! I'm a member of the Roman Imperial _Family_!"

Although Hiccup couldn't blame him after the display he'd just seen, Britannicus was still quite high and loud, and the rooms echoed terribly. He put a finger to his lips and jerked his chin wryly at the huge vaulted ceilings. "Sounding longs," he said dryly. "Too sounds many, I take sleeps of none!"

The boy just stared at him, his thin chest heaving, before he looked down at the paper between his fingers again. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Hiccup smiled comfortingly at the boy. "Dragon fire Romans shape _only_," he said confidingly, and Britannicus' face cleared as he processed that.

"Ohhhhh," he breathed, and his eyes became pools of pure excitement. "You mean I could really…?"

Hiccup nodded solemnly.

Britannicus almost seemed to quiver with exhilaration and began to unwind his toga hurriedly. "I'm going to meet a dragon," he breathed excitedly as his undertunic, similar to Hiccup's but in soft Egyptian cloth, came into view. "I'm actually going to meet one!"

"Meet a dragon," repeated Hiccup indulgently, and he brought the charcoal barrel closer for the boy to dust himself over. His enthusiasm was infectious, and his young face seemed to light up as he rubbed the black dust all over himself.

It also appeared that he'd been right about Britannicus wanting to meet the dragons, just as he had. Maybe it was something to do with being a lonely, frightened child?

When Hiccup judged that the Emperor's son was ready, he led the boy over to the intersecting door. The boy was pale with excitement and trepidation. "Ready?" Hiccup asked.

He nodded firmly.

"I to be in firstly," he told the boy, and walked slowly back into the dragon's chamber. Rusalka had calmed entirely from her scare, and purred at the sight of him, though the purr dropped when she saw the figure trotting behind him. She made a querulous booming purl, and Hiccup began to speak to her softly.

"Hey girl," he said in Norse, "hey Rusalka, hey there. Brought a friend. This is Britannicus, he's a friend. See, now you've got two friends. Easy now, easy…" he grabbed the boy's hand and brought it up to the dragon's nose. Britannicus swallowed at the sight of his hand raised towards those huge nostrils, but held his ground.

Rusalka's purr began again, hesitantly at first, but stronger as she recognised the smell of charcoal on the boy. "Now," Hiccup said in Norse, forgetting to change back to Latin, "I think you can probably pat her. Gently, now. For all that she's big, she's a bit of a, y'know, soft touch."

Britannicus looked at him in incomprehension, and Hiccup sighed at himself. What a loser. "There," he said in Latin, "to hand on face… slow, slow."

The boy's eyes lit with awe, and his hand settled on Rusalka's cheek like a trembling autumn leaf. The Orionos' purr deepened and the rumble in his feet began yet again. Hiccup also patted her, and began to scratch at the edge of a scale, and Britannicus, a smile of incredulous joy pasted on his face, mimicked the motion. The dragon purled happily.

"I'm meeting a dragon," Britannicus said in a tone of hushed bliss. "An Orionos dragon…!"

"Her Rusalka name," Hiccup said in an undertone.

"Russ-alka," Britannicus whispered. "Rusalka. What does it mean?"

Hiccup smiled. "Water god lady."

Britannicus beamed back.

Hiccup watched the boy for a moment. He had to admit he was impressed. He was a brave little boy – he couldn't be more than nine years old, and he'd snuck away from safety not once, but twice, and Hiccup was prepared to bet it wasn't the first time. He had followed his stepmother to find out her plans, and upon discovering the vast beast in the chamber, hadn't fled screaming but stayed in order to meet her. Perhaps he was biased, but Hiccup felt that anyone who liked dragons was probably a decent sort. The Empire was going to change a lot when Britannicus was finally in charge.

Britannicus was now pressed against the dragon's jaw, scratching vigorously and cooing to her as she rumbled in pleasure. Hiccup folded his arms and cocked his head as he watched in satisfaction, a heaviness lifting from his heart. For all that he'd done to Rusalka to free them both, it was a balm to his soul to know that at least she had another advocate amongst the two-legged population.

He left the two to bond and made his way around her giant shoulder, grabbing the dangling guide ropes and pulling them tightly. There was a gap tall enough for a man to walk beneath her massive under-foreleg, and he pulled at the rope until it came to rest just under her chin, before repeating the action on the other side of her body. The ties he had fashioned were crude and had more in common with sailor's knots than with any smithwork, but they held. He tugged at them and squinted up to view the fit of the harness over the hawser-like muscles that led under her chest. Good. Not too tight, so there was room for flight muscles to flex, but not so loose as to shake her riders off. He picked up the bridle as Britannicus began to sing softly to her, and walked over to her head again to fit it over the fins.

Just then there was the rusty clatter of the chamber door being unlocked. Hiccup froze and his eyes met Britannicus' in horror. "Go!" he hissed, and Britannicus bolted once more, though he paused at the door, his eyes conflicted. "Go!" Hiccup said again as he ran to the vice and pulled the rope, sending the heavy upper beam smashing down upon the poor dragon's snout once more.

Britannicus fled.

"Did you miss me?" Alvin's voice floated mockingly through the chambers, and Hiccup closed his eyes and prayed that if Britannicus hadn't gotten out in time he at least had the sense to hide. He turned his back on the door to hide his expression of anxiety, and began to soothe Rusalka as best he could from the horrible shock of having the clamp brought down on her again. She moaned and tried to nuzzle at him as best she could with her head mostly immobile.

"Oh, there you are!" he heard Alvin's sauntering footsteps behind him, and breathed out as much of his nervousness as possible before turning to face him. "I see you're getting along like a house on fire," he continued. "I hope you've got it ready for us, otherwise Gracchanus is getting a nice surprise. Perhaps I could give you to him for his birthday?"

"Shut up, I've done what you want," Hiccup snarled, and his fists clenched. He knew better than to try and attack Alvin however, as last time the man had simply kneed him in his wounded side and left him to roll in agony on the floor.

"You're looking a mite er, grubbier than usual," Alvin said in a friendly tone. "Been rolling in the dirt, have you? Unusual from the guy who couldn't stop moaning about bath-day for a whole month."

"I've been working," Hiccup said shortly, not bothering to rise to the dig about their captivity on board the pirate ship.

"No, no, I quite like it," he said in amusement. "It suits you."

Hiccup gritted his teeth and counted to ten in his head. "Can we get on with this?" he grated.

"In a moment – ah, my lady!" Alvin turned and bowed to the Empress who was entering with her usual languid walk.

Rusalka had begun to growl so deeply it could only be felt in his teeth and jaw.

"Jove's sake, barbarian, can't you clean him up a bit?" Agrippina sneered as she stopped, looking at Hiccup with disgust.

"He's been working, my Empress," Alvin said with an obsequious bow, though his eyes were hard as he regarded her.

"Surely work doesn't get a person _that_ filthy," she said, her lip curling.

"I'm sure you wouldn't know," Alvin muttered in Norse, before switching back to Latin. "It hardly matters. He says he's done it, the dragon is tamed. You can see the harness and steering, what is that…?"

"Bridle?" she said in a bored tone.

"Ah, thank you, Lady Agrippina, sometimes the words escape me," he said smoothly.

Hiccup took a breath and asked, "to show dragon now?"

"Urgh, it can speak _Latin_, urgh," Agrippina recoiled. "Like a monkey, not even proper sentences. That must be the way it tames the creatures; he's half-beast himself."

Hiccup tried to restrain his rising fury by clenching his fists so hard that his nails bit through the skin of his palms.

Alvin looked like he was restraining a cutting reply, instead inclining his head politely and saying, "he has a point, shall we begin?"

Agrippina pushed past him and circled Hiccup with a finicky sniff, regarding the dragon with a calculated gaze. "No," she mused, "no I don't think so."

"What?" Alvin burst out. "How will we know if the damned thing will obey us? What about your son's military victories?"

"Oh, I didn't say that I don't want to see it, ah, _perform_," she said with an arch little glance at Hiccup, who bristled at the reference to his week in the arena. "Not quite yet, however. I want to tell your filthy little ape a thing or two first. I'll need you to translate into that growling dribble you call a language."

Alvin didn't say anything but simply stared at her for a moment, before turning to Hiccup. "The Empress wishes to tell you something, Golden Boy," he said in flat Norse.

"Oh, yippee," Hiccup said sarcastically. "Lucky me."

Alvin snorted, and then looked back at the Empress. "He is listening, Lady," he said, just as flatly in Latin.

"Tell him this," said Agrippina, looking almost airily at her fingernails. "That as we now have the firepower and air capabilities of the dragons we will of course be taking the prudent course and taking out our most dangerous rivals. That means any others with the same capabilities. I _do_ hope his chilly little Northland islanders make good slaves. Britons are simply appalling, and you can't get a Gaul to cook anything edible. Perhaps the notion will make him think twice about snubbing my son in front of a crowd."

Hiccup stared as Alvin turned to him and took a deep breath. "Did you understand any of that?" he asked.

"I'm trying very hard not to," Hiccup said in a faint voice.

"Basically, the gist is that Rome is going after Vikingdom. They can't allow anyone else to use dragons as well. Berk is now Rome's most dangerous rival." Alvin suddenly grinned viciously. "Bet you never saw that coming."

"You're a Viking too!" Hiccup gasped, "how can you _do_ this? How can you be a part of this?"

"You've asked that question before," Alvin said nonchalantly. Then his face darkened. "And I'm half-Viking. My mother was a concubine."

"More lies," Hiccup tried to stop the roaring in his ears, the pounding of his head. "That's all you ever do, lie!"

"Sorry, kid, the truth this time." Alvin's eyes glittered. "I'm going to smash you all, and I'm going to be paid for doing it. What, you think the Orionos is the only dragon we're training? We've got a whole _fleet_ of them. This thing is just our biggest weapon, and the only one that wouldn't submit to me... but you didn't think I was lazing around all morning, did you? Tsk, Hiccup, I'm offended. Oh, I see the 'why' coming, how tedious. Well, let's nip that in the bud. Here's the _why_ - and I hope you choke on it. The lady here intends to repay you for saluting Messalina's brat and not hers, but I'm repaying the whole stinking Viking race for stealing my mother and throwing me out with the garbage."

"Al," Hiccup pleaded, his heart rattling his chest, "Al, no, please… don't, just come with me to Berk, no one knows there, it won't matter anyway, please give it another shot..."

"Berk?" Alvin said with a wide-eyed utterly false look of sorrow, "but Hiccup, by the time we get there... your precious Berk will just be a _smoking hole in the ground._"

Alvin leaned forward and through a grin that looked more like a snarl, hissed, "aren't you something _now_, dragon-tamer? All hail the Great. Big. Hero."

Hiccup choked.

He'd doomed his home.

"Get that clamp off," he dimly heard Agrippina say, and he sank to the floor in despair as Alvin's footsteps moved to the side of Rusalka's head and the creak of the winch began to ring.

He'd doomed his home. Him. He was exactly what everyone had called him – the biggest disaster to ever happen to Berk, Hiccup the Useless, the walking catastrophe.

This had undone everything good he had ever accomplished. Making friends with Toothless, saving the village, it had all led to this. Trying to spread the dragon peace - what a _fraud_ he was. He'd taken their trust and now they were to be turned into weapons. He should never have tried to befriend the Night Fury. He should never have built the bola-cannon. He should have stayed at home _like he was told_ and tried to be a Viking. He should have been a _Viking_.

He was the reason why everything he loved was going to die.

Hiccup the Useless strikes again.

Why hadn't the Gods struck him down, already? Hadn't he proved enough times that he couldn't do anything right?

He buried his face in his charcoal-covered hands and muffled his sob of shock and horror. He was vaguely aware that his face was wet, but time seemed to have stopped and there was only him and his huge, crushing failure.

Time came rushing back in the form of a roaring dragon. Hiccup lurched back, his hands jerking from his face, and he gaped at Rusalka, who was shrieking and struggling against her bonds, her eyes fixed on the toga-clad Alvin and the woman in her long flowing gown. Alvin had his hands clamped over his ears, and he dived to one side as she inhaled, green gas flickering in her jagged maw. Agrippina screamed and threw herself behind the winch as a giant cloud of flame raced over the floor directly for Hiccup.

He sat and watched it come.

Shockingly there was a small figure before him, holding one of the scrap sheets of metal he'd used to scare Rusalka with. Britannicus yelped and wrapped his hands in his stolen toga as he braced the makeshift shield against the plume of fire. Hiccup regarded him with dull eyes as the flame dispersed, materials and wood around the chamber still flickering and smouldering.

Alvin was fighting with the winch, but her flame had eaten the drop-rope. He would have to pull it down by hand, and the metal pole was glowing cherry-red. Hiccup let his gaze slide away from them. He couldn't even summon the slightest bit of hatred for Alvin now. The world was painted shades of grey. He felt dead and cold inside.

"Get up!" Britannicus cried, "get up!"

Hiccup let the boy pull at his arm, too hopeless and weak to struggle. What did it matter.

Britannicus yanked him to the chamber door, and Hiccup barely felt a flicker when he saw that it was still unlocked. His freedom, what he'd gone through all that heartbreak with Rusalka for.

Oh yes, and he'd tormented and tortured a helpless creature for _nothing_, let's not forget that.

"Go, go, go!" Britannicus yelled, and pushed him through the door. Hiccup stumbled onto his knees as Rusalka let out a wail of anguish. Britannicus slammed the door behind him and yanked Hiccup to his feet, babbling frantically in Latin that was indistinguishable from gibberish. He ran falteringly, blindly after the boy into the honey-warm afternoon that to Hiccup was as dark as death.

Astrid. Toothless. His dad. Gobber. The twins. Fishlegs. Gerda. 'Lout. Their faces swam in his mind's eye, surrounded by fire, the fire of the Orionos.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed raggedly, though in his heart it was a howl. The child who had mistakenly saved his pathetic life yanked his leaden body onwards.

* * *

_Britannicus was the son of Claudius and Valeria Messalina (20 AD - 48 AD), his third wife. Messalina became notorious throughout Rome for her rampant infidelity. The Emperor himself was devoted to her and knew nothing of her other activities. She once competed with a prostitute to see who could wear out the most men in a night - and won. Her sexual intrigues finally got her executed after a plot was discovered to put her lover on the throne. Britannicus and his sister, Octavia, fell from favour. _


	16. Chapter 16

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Review time!

**cindlemain: **Oh, thank you so much! It's so gratifying to hear something like that! And sorry I made you cry :/ Believe me, it _does,_ and after all this whumpage it should be even more joyous! **Romance and Musicals: **These Romans are crazy! Especially this era - I mean, they just had _Caligula_ of all people, and Nero's already on the scene! I always felt very sorry for Britannicus. Historically, he got a really raw deal. Poor kid! And what a great idea! I hadn't thought of that as a possible third in a trilogy... hmm (I must be mental, thinking of it already...!) Thank you so much! **Foxy's Girl: **Hee! *blush* ILU, Foxy! That's a safe bet for a T-shirt, I might join you there! Thanks! **The Incredible Puba: **Thanks, glad you liked the twist! Next one comin' up! **massinvader: **Plenty of heroics coming soon, don't you worry! **Voldyne: **A time machine sounds like the more enjoyable option! Glad you liked! **Ze Great Camicazi: **Poor Hiccup! Being written by such a vindictive author! **4ever2010: **I know! *dances* SO STOKED. I'm so happy you're enjoying this - and yep, I'm a regular li'l updating machine! Every morning *g* **Clockwork mockingbird: **Sorreeeee! *ducks* But I promise it's not for nothing! Promise! **Kat: **Well, it's all finished at 26 chapters at the moment, but that may change (I tend to rewrite and re-edit obsessively, sigh) GO RUSALKA! That'll teach 'em! Thank you! (And yes, you are spot on! I'll post the link to the Latin map I was using on my profile for you!) **darkmaster 7987: **Oh, she is a nasty piece of work. All she cares about is her son, and _nothing else._ Oh well, history gets her in the end! Glad you're enjoying this so much, I do look forward to your reviews! Thank you! **Strider714: **Glad to hear it went well! You poor thing, you must be exhausted. At least the actors bumped out! Let's hope neither Alvin nor Agrippina _have _read the Villainy 101 handbook - I believe Hiccup would be dead as toast were that the case *g* **Leon Woon: **I know, such a downer :( But we have to plumb the depths before we start looking up! Thank you! **Ordgar:** Oh, thank you so much! I'm so glad you like my use of the historical characters - I do love this period of history *g*

And now, sunny Italy!

* * *

There was a huge town some miles away that Stoick called a 'city'. It was clearly visible from the steep rise they had scaled that morning. It had strange white buildings in the centre, and colourful walls and roofs on the houses. Astrid thought they might be painted in some way. Surely it hurt their eyes, to be surrounded by such a riot of colour?

There were small farmsteads and villages dotted here and there, and Stoick had spent some time glaring at his map and at the position of the sun, before declaring that they had to have some form of transport. Toothless was still shockingly tired, but he had rested enough to walk and carry Fishlegs, who was strapped to his back.

There were animals stationed at some of the villages and at a few isolated farmsteads. Stoick had firmly vetoed entering the city, which his map called Neapolis (1). "We don't speak their language, an' we should be keepin' a low profile until we know more about where they're keepin' my son," he said sternly.

Gobber and Spitelout had looked longingly at the richly adorned buildings, and sighed.

"Besides," Stoick added, "Rome is the other way."

According to the chart, they had landed a little to the north of that Neapolis place, which was some way south of Rome. Stoick had estimated that it had been perhaps two days sail to the port of Ostia, which meant, terrain permitting, that it was a week and a half's walk or three days ride on horseback. Thus the need for transport.

After setting up a camp on the lee side of the rise, Stoick, Spitelout, Gobber and Phlegma all crept away towards one of the farmsteads. "Good ol' fashioned Vikingery," Gobber had said with an evil grin as they slunk away into the night.

Hensteeth could not be persuaded to leave his son, and the young people were charged with guarding the camp. Fishlegs had awoken a bit disoriented and hazy, but he would heal. "He's got the Ingerman constitution," Hensteeth had affirmed in his slow deep voice, but everyone could see the lingering worry around his eyes.

Ruffnut had been keeping herself busy by gathering brush for the fire and keeping lookout, but Astrid had seen the other girl's eyes drift over to Fishlegs at least once every eight minutes. She clearly wanted to go to him, but as they hadn't had their 'talk' yet she was also just as obviously uncertain of where they stood with each other. Finally, Astrid took pity on her.

"Hey, Ruff, want some company?" she called.

Ruffnut looked surprised, before her face sagged in relief. "Gods, yes," she sighed. "I am totally going out of my mind here."

"Well, let's talk about something else, then," Astrid suggested. "Take our mind off, uh, things."

She gave Astrid a wry glance. "Guess we could both do with that, huh."

"Sooooo," Astrid stood, smoothing down her smock and going over to sit cross-legged by Ruff, "what do you want to talk about?"

Ruff shrugged and pulled absently at one of her braids. "Dunno."

Astrid tipped her head and decided to get the ball rolling. "Well, I for one didn't know you were such a good shot."

"Hey, did you see that shot I made on the pirate ship? Trollface over there always says that _he's_ the better shot. Well, sure showed him!"

"You're really good with that bow," Astrid agreed. "Did you learn that from Gobber?"

"Nah, my mum," Ruff leaned back on her palms, blowing out a breath. "We both did. She kinda insisted we both learn the minute we turned twelve and could draw the thing. Our little sister is gonna start soon too."

Astrid thought of Bloodnut Thorston and her other children, the preteen Hardnut and scowly little Chestnut. "Do you miss them?"

"Yeah. Just a bit," Ruff admitted grudgingly. "Do you miss your family?"

Her thoughts turned to her usually taciturn but kind-hearted mother, her fierce, sulky little brother Ainid. Inevitably they began to turn to Hiccup as well, but she nipped that in the bud. "Yeah," she said gently. "Yeah, I miss them too."

"So what's the first thing you're going to do when you get home?" Ruffnut asked lazily, her head tipping back as she looked up at the unfamiliar stars.

"Pop, probably," Astrid sighed and rubbed at her belly a bit. The Tiny Haddock was awake again, and the flutterings were steadily growing stronger, becoming distinguishable as kicks or punches. "Quit it," she groused.

"Moving?" Ruffnut said, a look of fascination on her face, and Astrid blew her fringe out of her eyes and nodded.

"It's not all that fun," she said grumpily.

"Oh, I saw all that," Ruff shook her head. "But hey, it could be worse."

Astrid raised an eyebrow.

Ruff jerked her head to where her brother was cleaning out his ear with a finger and then inspecting the fruits of his labours with a vacant squint. "It could be twins," Ruff said in a hushed voice.

"Frigga forbid," Astrid gasped in mock-horror, and Ruffnut chuckled wickedly.

"Yeah, you think on that and have _nightmares_, Fishing Basket," she grinned.

"Oh, I will," Astrid said seriously. "Really, thanks for that. Loki's burning _balls_."

"So, is it?" Ruff asked after a beat.

Astrid looked down at the swell of her stomach. "Nah. Phlegma says it's just the one. Two days ago it felt like one, now it's kicking like six."

"Might take a while to get back to training," Ruff commented in a neutral tone, and Astrid bristled, before slumping a little.

"Yeah," she agreed. "But… well, I _guess_ it's worth it…"

"Is it?" Ruff's nose wrinkled, and Astrid felt the corner of her mouth lift slightly.

"Yes," she said softly. "Yes, it is. Even the stupid nausea. But you didn't hear me say that - and if you tell anyone I can still beat you up, baby or no!"

"What do you need to do that for," Ruff said archly, "when you could just sit on me?"

"You die," Astrid said with an overdramatic growl that turned into a laugh, "at a later date."

"I totally live in fear until that day," Ruff said lightly. "Seems weird, you not thinking about fighting or training or anything. Maybe once the baby's born, then?"

"I really don't know," Astrid said with a shrug. "I mean, maybe I can work something out, but it's gonna be hard for a while, from all I've heard. My mum'll help me, y'know, after she's finished screaming at me, but even then… I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

"S'pose," Ruffnut said reflectively.

"So how about you? What's the first thing you're going to do when we get home?" Astrid nudged her.

Ruff blew out a huge, juddering sigh, and her eyes travelled over to Fishlegs before snapping back to centre. "I," she said decisively, " am gonna take a bath that lasts an _hour_. Then I'm gonna take Sindri and Brokk and fly around the whole island three times. Then I'm gonna eat as much of a good old Berk-style sheep as I can. And fresh cabbage and salmon and eggs. And ale! An' then I'm going to sleep for a week. A _week_."

"Good plan," Astrid said approvingly. "_Great_ plan."

There was a pause.

"Hey Astrid, we're really friends now, right?" Ruff said suddenly.

"Yes, Ruff, we really are," Astrid smiled.

* * *

Astrid was shaken from her sleep just before dawn.

"We're going," Ruffnut whispered.

The small raiding party had returned with six scrubby horses and a small wagon. Astrid yawned and stretched her back out. She'd only had three hours sleep, what with taking the first watch and the Tiny Haddock's gymnastics. "So who gets what?" she asked blurrily.

"Fishlegs is going in the back of that cart," Ruff said, "Phlegma's going to drive it. And you're on Toothless, if he's up to it."

Astrid looked over at the dragon consideringly. He seemed to be in much better shape, his eyes wider and more alert. "Well, he looks better," she said, "but I'll find out."

She walked to the Night Fury, placing a fond hand on his head. "So, you okay to carry me, then?" she asked softly, rubbing at his eyeridge. "You were a bit out of it back there."

Toothless shook his ears in dismissal and snorted. It was obviously dragonese for "ready when you are." She smiled back at Ruff.

"Good to go," she said.

Ruff smiled back. "Okay, well, I gotta go pick a horse before all the good ones are gone."

"At least none of these have flowers on them," Astrid said dryly, and Ruff smirked before going to pick a fight with Tuff.

The terrain was green and verdant, and well-maintained roads criss-crossed the flora, though Stoick maintained as much of their course away from the roads as possible. "Too easy to get caught," he said shortly.

Astrid hadn't spent much time on a walking dragon as opposed to a flying one, and it was a peculiarly different gait to a horse. Toothless' shoulders moved when he placed a paw in front of the other, and so she had to compensate for a slight sway. In time she found herself leaning forward to ease the resulting strain on her lower back. It wasn't due to the baby yet – though she reminded herself sourly that it wasn't long before that was going to be an issue – but rather due to the shifting of her hips on Toothless' back.

"You okay?" Ruff asked, sitting her horse with some discomfort. The sun dappling through the trees made her squint.

"He moves side to side when he walks," Astrid grumbled.

"At least you have a saddle," Ruff said with a wince, shifting herself. The horse she was riding was a scrubby brown, and none had saddles, only crude rope bridles that Fishlegs and Hensteeth had thrown together. Astrid privately thought that Hiccup could have done a better job of it.

"We're going to be stiff tonight," Astrid said with a grimace.

"So let's talk about something else again," Ruffnut said, also grimacing. "I could do with taking my mind off where it is right now."

Astrid snickered.

"Does Spike move side to side?" Ruff asked in the manner of one making conversation, and Astrid hmm'd.

"A bit," she finally said, "but with just two legs so far behind the saddle, it doesn't really affect me. Not that I've ever walked with her all that much… it's more the jolting up and down with her." She stifled a sigh. "I miss her a lot."

"You've become pretty close to this one though, haven't you?" Ruff nodded at Toothless, who cocked his head at her and said 'ruuurrrm?'

"Yeah," Astrid rubbed his ear and he rumbled with affection. "But I… well, I talk to Spike all the time. Just about anything and everything." She smiled confidingly. "Best. Listener. Ever."

Ruffnut looked around cautiously, then leaned over a little. "I talk to Sindri too," she admitted in a rush.

Astrid grinned at her. "Oh?"

"Just, y'know, whatever's going on. Whatever's on my mind," Ruffnut shrugged one shoulder uncomfortably. "S'nice."

"It is, isn't it?" Astrid said agreeably. "I even go and talk to her during the long sleep. Plus I polish her up a bit. She'd never forgive me if I let her wake up in less than perfect condition."

"Shhyeah, Nadders," Ruff snorted, before she looked down with a touch of regret in her eyes. "I'm probably going to have to leave Sindri and Brokk behind when I…"

Astrid's heart went out to her. "Oh, Ruff, I'm sorry… but you'll still be able to visit them, won't you?"

"Yeah," said Ruff gustily. "Won't be the same, though."

"Guess not." Astrid looked up at the strange branches crossing the warm blue skies.

"Two more days of this!" Ruff suddenly burst out.

"Don't think about it," Astrid said sternly, and Ruffnut huffed.

"Easy for you to say, it's not your butt totally being pulverised."

"No, it's my back," Astrid said pointedly, and Ruff rolled her eyes.

"Well, if you will get knocked up and then ride a dragon…" she drawled, and Astrid couldn't help but growl.

"It's not the baby, it's the stupid side-to-side! Believe me, if it was the baby, you'd hear about it!"

"Whoa, Mama Bear," Ruffnut said archly, "you wanna watch that bite of yours."

Astrid surprised herself by laughing. "Sorry, ignore that," she said ruefully. Gods above, her crazy temper.

"I intend to," Ruff said loftily. Then she gave Astrid a sympathetic look. "Still all over the place, huh?"

"Just you wait, I am going to lord it over you like you wouldn't believe when you have to go through this," Astrid threatened.

"And I'll remind you that you bit my head off, and now it's my turn," Ruff said serenely.

Their laughter soared into the unfamiliar trees.

* * *

They didn't get to talk again until the following night. Fishlegs had stayed awake for much of the previous day, and Ruffnut had spent most of it riding behind the carriage talking to him in a low voice. Astrid was glad for her, even though she had seen Phlegma roll her eyes more than once.

Astrid herself had spent the day riding by Stoick. He was riding a great carthorse, which despite its size was far more skittish around Toothless than any of the other animals. It was slowly getting used to the dragon, though it still whinnied nervously and its eyes still rolled in alarm when Toothless' head swung towards it.

Stoick himself was possessed of a frantic energy that Astrid completely understood. They were so close now that it was hard to stop each night and set up camp, knowing that Rome was only a day away. He spoke very little, and the only change of expression she saw on his face was when a patrol of some sort came jingling down the nearby road. He held up his hand and the whole party fell still as they passed. It was a good thing that the Vikings of Berk mostly dressed in brown, grey and green, Astrid thought to herself in relief.

"We're gettin' close," Gobber murmured.

"There'll be more of those patrols around. Keep your eyes peeled," Stoick said tersely, and they began to move on more cautiously, their ears pricked for signs of those soldiers. Toothless peered ahead with his keen vision, and Astrid (now hunched further along his back to stop the infernal _swaying_) tried to quiet her breathing, which seemed suddenly harsh and loud in the still woodland air.

That night's camp was a silent one, and they lit no fire. Ruff remained with 'Legs, and Astrid stayed by Stoick. Although he didn't say it, he showed in small ways that he appreciated her presence. He insisted she keep the seal-fur, and made sure she had a pile of leaves to sleep on instead of the loamy earth.

Astrid woke some time after midnight, feeling the drowsy kicking of the baby and the insistent call of nature. She crept away from the sleeping Vikings to take care of that, her hands stretched blindly between the trees in the dark.

When she returned, she was startled to see Stoick sitting silent as a statue to one side. He was bundled in his great bearskin cloak, and his eyes were warily darting around the forest to settle again and again to the northwest. She sat down beside him, and he glanced down before saying flatly, "you should be asleep."

"Your grandchild woke me up," Astrid said just as flatly, and Stoick's face softened a little.

"Hiccup gave Val a lot of trouble too," he said in a faraway voice, his eyes drifting back to the northwest. "She used to be up an' down all night."

"This one has definitely inherited that tendency," Astrid groused, and rubbed at the place where _someone _thought it would be fun to kick Mum repeatedly. Brat.

Stoick's mouth actually turned up at the corners, and Astrid returned the small smile, glad to see the man unbend a little. He had been the epitome of grim single-mindedness for most of the journey, the only exception being the impromptu celebration after their sojourn in Hispalis. Impulsively she grabbed his blocky hand and pressed it against the rise of her belly just over her navel. "It's going to be a good runner," she said, maintaining the smile.

The baby kicked. Stoick's face was suddenly suffused with fierce love.

"Aye, that's a good strong kick," he said quietly, and met her eyes as he dropped his hand back into his lap. "We'll be there tomorrow afternoon, most like."

Astrid swallowed her sigh at his return to his grim demeanour, and stood. "Well, I'm going back to sleep."

"Astrid?" he said as she turned away.

"Yes?" she peered back at him.

"Thanks."

She fell asleep still smiling.

The next day was miserable. It rained, warm and constant, a drizzle that permeated the furs and felt clammy against the skin. A small stream afforded them the (very welcome) chance to wash. The men had washed first as Ruff, Astrid and Phlegma picketed the horses, and then the women. Astrid then had the delightful experience of being horribly self-conscious about her swollen body – but Ruff was more interested in being clean and Phlegma, as the village midwife, was completely inured to the sight of a pregnant woman. She gave up on hiding under the water eventually and simply washed as quickly as possible.

It was a totally wasted effort, as not half an hour later everyone was just as sweaty-feeling and morose as before.

As the sun began to set, Toothless grunted at Astrid, his head jerking towards a small set of hills in the distance upon which a large settlement, a 'city', could be seen. Astrid gaped at the size of it. It was _enormous_.

"That's it," said Stoick grimly. "That's Rome."

Astrid gazed at it in horror. How were they ever to find Hiccup in that?

* * *

Astrid poked at a rock with a stick. Her heart was somewhere in her boots.

Ruff plonked herself down next to her. "Hey."

Astrid poked the rock a bit harder. "Hey."

"Well, I talked to him," Ruff said breathlessly. Astrid looked up expectantly.

Ruff just grinned. A real grin, not her usual sly smirk or her slightly predatory fighting smile.

Astrid smiled back and pulled the other girl into a hug. "Good for you."

Then she whispered into her ear, "and you owe me one."

"Oh yeah?" Ruffnut pulled back to look at her friend. Her smile was a little overwhelmed. "Anything in mind?"

Astrid pursed her lips. "Can you teach me to sew properly? All I've ever sewn is a bit of felt or Hiccup's skin."

Ruffnut choked.

* * *

Valhallarama Haddock of Berk sat on her bunk and stroked a folded piece of cloth.

Her headcloth. Her own mother's headcloth. It had been a gift to her along with a bronze headpiece to fasten it to upon her own marriage to Stoick, the young boisterous Chief.

It had waited for her. Hiccup had said he'd stolen it from his wife. Stoick had never passed on her belongings to anyone else. No one had taken her place at his side. No new bride had been given her jewellery until the day Hiccup himself had wed. Her life still waited for her. Her husband still waited for her.

She wondered if he'd changed as much as she had. He had been a laughing man, a carefree man, their young, strong, jovial Chief. He hadn't had the position long before Hiccup was born, and the cares of tending to Berk hadn't seemed to weigh him down at all. They certainly hadn't taken away his joy in his wife, his son, a good ale and a roistering fight around the fire followed by a song or two.

She hoped he would not be shocked by the changes in her. Setting aside the fifteen years upon her face and the grey streaks in her hair, she was grimmer and harder now. She was no longer his arch young wife with the glint in her eye. Fifteen years of slavery had carved new lines into her soul.

She dreaded seeing him again almost as much as she longed for it.

She had spent the last three weeks stroking the headscarf and wondering, hoping and dreading. She had prayed with all her might to Urd to protect her son and to Frigga to forgive her for wounding him in her ignorance. She had never thought for a moment that anyone from Berk would ever end up in Rome, and certainly not her boy. She had never thought that a man like Stoick and a woman like herself could produce a son like that. He didn't look a thing like she'd expected him to. She'd expected a large, husky boy like Stoick had been, strong and broad-faced and burly. She'd expected a bushy beard like Stoick's, perhaps her own strong arms and shoulders. She'd expected brute strength rather than calculated precision. She'd expected a booming voice and a thick body. She'd expected two feet.

He was better. Far, far better than any of her expectations.

Her son was a hero. Her son was the stuff sagas were made of. And he was a skinny, tall, gawky lad with her own green eyes that seemed slightly too big for his face, a metal leg, a mind full of quips and gadgets and a Night Fury for a friend. He had a nervous laugh and a steely determination that was the soul of bravery itself. He couldn't hide his emotions to save himself; every thought in his head passed over his expressive face. He was also the most generous person she'd ever met. Though he must have been torn apart inside by her absence over his most formative years, though she had just ripped him apart physically and torn the scab from an old wound emotionally, he had found it in himself to reassure her about his father. About himself. To tell her that her life still waited for her.

It was the greatest gift she had ever been given.

It made her proud to the point of tears that she could call such a man her son.

So he had married Gerda Hofferson's little girl. Val's recollections of her were of a scowling toddler with wispy blonde hair that continually got in her eyes. She couldn't help but smile at a particular memory; two and a half year old Hiccup had been playing with a wooden horse toy, and the Hofferson girl had snatched it away to bonk the Jorgenson boy on the head with it. Hiccup hadn't cried, but had instead started fashioning himself another out of straw. Perhaps that should have been her first clue as to the nature of her son.

A love match, she'd asked, and he had nodded. She was glad.

She had to become used to the idea that she was a mother-in-law. _Mother-in-law_. The very words conjured up negative connotations, stories and mean-spirited jokes. She discarded the image contemptuously. She was going to love the girl as much as her boy obviously did. She owed him no less.

Stroking the headcloth one last time, she crumpled the material between her hands as she stood. She'd told the Emperor she would stay and fight for her freedom once more.

Binding the cloth around her hair like a warrior arming for battle, she set her chin stubbornly and turned to stare at the heavy door.

She had lied.

Her life was waiting for her.

* * *

(1) Naples

* * *

_Yeaaaaah Bechdel test PASSED!_


	17. Chapter 17

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

You're getting this one a little earlier as I'm working _very_ early tomorrow! I hope you all enjoy!

**cindlemain:** Aw, thank you! Yes, they'll stick out like a sore thumb in Rome - but as we see, that might actually be to their benefit ;) Lots more Rufflegs later! Kill Alvin Army - we need badges. Poor Val, back in the awful barracks, I feel for her too. More of her later as well! **OmarBarria: **Here we go, more! And _everyone's _in Rome now! **childofthestorm: **Val = BAMF. Oh yeah. Can you imagine the kind of woman that Stoick would have married? She would be _awesome. _Oh yeah, they're totally lost at sea in all those people (pardon the pun!) - Rome was such a mad place. I've sort of had moments between Ruff and Astrid scattered throughout the whole story, so their friendship has slowly built. I do like it when the girls are _friends_ rather than harpies to each other. (And right *wink!*) **Voldyne: **GO VAL! I need a pennant! And they're SO CLOSE now! **clockwork mockingbird: **Aw, thank you! And yes, they are soooo close now! Poor Hiccup and poor Stoick, not knowing a thing about either the baby or Val. H & A have been apart for over five months, so Astrid's a way off giving birth as yet. She's around 27 weeks along at this point - _definitely_ showing and getting bigger all the time, but not so large yet that she can't manouvre. I'm going to post a small timeline in the epilogue for everyone to have a squint at, if they want! **kat: **Not giving it away, but they are _so close_ now! Glad you enjoyed the map - my god it's been useful! Thank you so much! **Ze Great Camicazi: **GO VAL! And here's what's happening with Hiccup! Thank you! **Romance and Musicals: **Oh, thanks, what a wonderful thing to hear! Yeah, BAMF Val! And aw at Astrid and Stoick's little moment. He's going to be such a proud grandpa. **4ever2010: **Yep! It's all finished, so I'm posting one per morning now! There's 26 chapters all up, and a timeline for the curious. X) Thank you! **The Incredible Puba: **Val definitely has more than enough impetus to get out of there now! We're getting close to that climax! Thank you so much! **Leon Woon: **Poor Astrid, it's hard enough when you're _not_ on a desperate quest to save your loved one! And Val lied to the emperor. She told him she'd stay and fight for her freedom again - but her life is waiting for her. She's planning a daring escape! Thank you, I do look forward to your reviews! **darkmaster7987: **Oh I know, isn't it poetic? Hah, in your face, Agrippina! Hee, Stoick's going to be such a softie as a grandpa. You certainly do smell a jailbreak! Val's reached a turning point, and is taking action. Thank you - and oh my, I am SO looking forward to that review! That sounds amazing, and I can't wait!

Without further ado, it's Sad!Hiccup.

* * *

Useless.

Britannicus had rushed him through the city towards a nearby hill, where a huge and ornate building with beautiful tiled frescoes sat in impressive solitude. He dragged him through a hole in the wall half-hidden by fig trees and into a leafy courtyard, and Hiccup slumped into a corner. The boy hissed, "stay here!" and ran off.

Useless, useless, useless.

It was all useless.

Hiccup honestly had no idea of how long he sat there, a crumpled heap of misery. It didn't matter anyway. He had nowhere else to be.

"Vulcan…?" Britannicus' voice came floating back. "Vul… oh, er, Hic-ahp?"

He didn't bother answering. What would have been the point?

A pair of sandalled feet appeared, and Hiccup raised incurious eyes to look full into the face of the Emperor Claudius.

"Why do I even _have_ a Praetorian Guard?" he asked sourly of himself, before turning to his quivering son.

"My son, what is this?" he evenly asked Britannicus, who hovered anxiously behind him.

"The bestiarius Vulcan," Britannicus wrung his hands nervously. "I found him."

"I can see that," Claudius answered testily. "What I wish to know is why did you bring him to the palace? And how in the name of _Jove_ did you get out in the first place?"

Britannicus blithely ignored the first question and began to speak breathlessly. "I found him in Roma Sotteranea, with an Orionos! I met an Orionos! Father, I followed my stepmother there. She is working with another barbarian, and they are-"

Claudius held up a hand. "Y-your stepmother? Britannicus, slow down."

"I followed her yesterday," Britannicus said impatiently. "And I talked to the bestiarius today. He was kidnapped from a 'Plotina's' house, isn't that the wife of that slaver? And then my stepmother arrived, and another barbarian, the one who the dragon fired at the arena. They're working together! I hid and listened! Father, the Orionos… it is meant for my stepbrother! They mean to use it to defeat the Northlands!"

Claudius' eyes narrowed. "Can you prove this?"

Britannicus pointed at Hiccup frantically. "Ask him!"

The Emperor looked surprised. "He speaks Latin?"

"A bit," Britannicus shifted uncomfortably, and Claudius tilted his head expectantly at Hiccup.

"Is this true, barbarian?" he asked tightly.

"Them to killing my home," Hiccup said in a dead voice. "Them to killing all thing. Agrippina and Alvin to kill all, all thing."

Claudius' brow furrowed, and he crouched stiffly in front of the filthy Viking. "Alvin?" he repeated. "That is the name of the other barbarian, the one who helps my wife?"

Hiccup nodded brokenly. "Alvin."

Claudius' grey head bowed briefly as he thought for a moment. "In the arena, you told my centurion that he was the man who enslaved you. That is why you made that dragon fire at the crowd, is it not?"

Hiccup nodded again, and his eyes fluttered shut to escape the memory. "Alvin slave me."

"And he took you from Balbus' house? Lysippos told me you had disappeared. I assumed you had tried to make your passage back to your Northlands."

"Home to killing," Hiccups voice cracked. "Agrippina and Alvin to kill all, all my home. All my wife, my father, my dragon. My home," he half-gasped the last word, his chest twisting with guilt. "All my home killing, all from _me_. My the reasons why!"

"Stop that," Claudius said sternly. "I care not for your self-recrimination. What I want to know is why my twisted little bride would do such a thing and behind my back too."

"Father, I told you," Britannicus interrupted with exasperation. "It's all about Domitius! She wants to make him a great military leader – I _heard_ her! She wants him to supplant me! She'll do anything-"

"Britannicus, be quiet," Claudius snapped. "Vulcan?"

"His name is Hicahp," Britannicus muttered sulkily.

"Hicahp," Claudius said in a tone of martyred patience. "Confirm this."

Hiccup wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. "True," he said listlessly. "To be making Agrippina son."

Claudius stood painfully and began to pace, his uneven gait dragging over the courtyard tiles. "She has never gone so far as this before," he muttered to himself. "This is foolhardy. We cannot afford another war so soon after the British conquest. We would be ruined. Egypt is hardly producing enough grain so soon after the flooding of the Nile, and infected with this Christianity nonsense b-besides. The new Traeictum on the Rhine is costing too much already (1). She's mad."

"Marry women with head sick," Hiccup said bitterly, and the Emperor glanced over to him, and a short laugh escaped him.

"Yes, I seem to continually have that problem," he said dryly. "It was a political move, a marriage in name only, and don't think I don't know how much the people dislike the idea of a man marrying his niece. But who could have guessed my beloved brother could have produced a child like that? The man was a great soul, and a great Roman."

"That's who I was originally named for," Britannicus told Hiccup sadly.

"It was a way of honouring him," Claudius said impatiently. "And you know why I had to accept the change, Germanicus. I couldn't accept the honorific, but the senate wouldn't hear of it being dismissed altogether, so it was accepted for you. Wake up, boy. You have to rule those men one day. Don't you t-think a reminder of past glory would be a boon?"

"It won't be me!" Britannicus burst out. "You heard him! It'll all be for Domitius! You even _adopted_ him! What's to stop my stepmother now?"

Claudius sighed. "You insist on aggravating him with that name. He changed it to Nero. Use it. You can't afford them as enemies."

"They were my enemies the minute you married her!" Britannicus shouted.

Hiccup's attention slid from the bickering pair. His side was throbbing, and he felt drained. His heart continued to beat, the stupid thing. Didn't it know there was no point?

Useless.

"Go," he said in his dead voice. "I go."

Britannicus stopped his tirade mid-voice, his white-faced father blinking at the sudden silence. "Where will you go?" Britannicus asked in a small voice.

"Why matter," Hiccup said emptily. "Home dead. All killing. To dead go too."

Claudius pinched the bridge of his nose. "Minerva and Mercury save us from fools," he grunted. "Barbarian, you are wounded. You are starving. You are filthy. You cannot go anywhere like that. Since my idiot son here has decided to make you his project, I have little choice other than to assist you, lest word escapes of this plan. I will be a l-laughingstock if that occurs." He smiled grimly. "Not that that's a new experience."

Hiccup blinked slowly and looked up at the old man, recognising the tone if not all the words. So the great Roman Emperor had been like Hiccup? An outcast, a loser… _Claudius_ the Useless? He noted the man's trembling leg, the nervous palsy of his head and hands, remembered the stammer.

"I am that boy was also," he said quietly. "Hiccup the to good not working."

Claudius seemed shocked, his mouth falling open.

"Father?" Britannicus asked hesitantly.

He shook himself. "Pronounced differently," he said in a measured way. "Hiccup."

Hiccup nodded, and his eyes dropped to the tiles again. Hiccup the Useless. Hiccup the Walking Disaster. Hiccup the Destruction of Berk.

"I was ill when I was young," the Emperor said steadily. "It affected my speech and my legs. My family shunned me once it was obvious and most of them hated me, all except my brother Germanicus and my dear friend Postumus Agrippa – who both died when I was a young man. My great and heroic father died in Gaul when I was a baby, and my own m-mother despised me and called me a monster. My life was not worth two denarii to my grandfather Augustus, and my uncle Tiberius considered me a bookish mistake of nature. My grandmother Livia ignored me outright except to write to me. My mad n-nephew Caligula mocked me relentlessly and publicly humiliated me for sport. My wives have been either indifferent or openly hostile – and in one memorable case r-rampantly adulterous. I have been alone most of my life, and there is not one living soul still alive in this world who loves me."

Claudius bent slightly to stare very hard at the young man. "There is a woman in this city who did a very great deed for you. You are still loved. That is a g-great gift."

Hiccup couldn't tear his gaze away from the old man's blue eyes. He swallowed, and Plotina Sulpicia's words echoed again in his churning mind. _That is a great gift_.

"Mother," he said hoarsely.

"Yes," said Claudius in that same steady tone, "your mother."

"Father…" Britannicus took a handful of his father's toga and tugged, his small chin lifting challengingly. "I love you."

Claudius closed his eyes. "I know, my son. And… I love you. But I cannot show it p-publicly for fear of what Agrippina will do to you should I favour you above Nero."

Britannicus leaned against his father's side. "Nero," he said in a resigned voice.

His hand trembling with palsy (or perhaps more), the Emperor's hand lifted and lay gently on the boy's blond head. "Yes, Nero," he said softly. "I wish for you to live, Britannicus. I wish for you to f-follow after me. The only way to ensure this is to keep you out of Agrippina's eye."

Father and son remained in that pose as though carven of marble, the moment stretching out into the silence and the stillness of the afternoon. Hiccup drew up his knees and hugged them, the chill of his metal leg settling through his arm and into his bones. Of course, his mother.

His mother who had mistakenly re-entered a lifetime of servitude for his sake. His head began to throb with the same pace as his infected wound. He had done that too. He had doomed his mother to the arena floor once more, when freedom had been within her grasp. He had done that.

'_Is there anything you can't do?_' a voice from the throng in his mind piped. It sounded like Alvin.

He buried his head in his knees, shoulders shaking. Oh, what a Great. Big. Hero.

"I go," he said through gritted teeth into his filthy tunic. "Why matter should I go! Why matter all? Alvin and Agrippina to killing my home, my mother to slave _again!_ I become always Hiccup the to not good working! _Always!_"

He was shouting as he finished, his eyes filling. The sense of hopelessness was overwhelming. He felt as though he were being swallowed by a huge, crushing darkness. Useless. Useless!

"Hiccup," Claudius began, but Hiccup stood abruptly and whirled to the hole hidden by the fig trees.

"Britannicus," Hiccup muttered as he pushed them aside, "Rusalka to yours friendly. Yours."

He looked back once at the Emperor's expressionless face and sympathetic eyes, Britannicus' look of horrified pity. "Why matter," he choked. "Why always to matter."

And he dived out of the palace garden, dashing the tears from his face roughly as he ran down the hill into the sea of uncaring humanity.

_Useless._

* * *

Toothless could not come into the city.

He was not a big fan of this idea.

"Come in at night," Astrid told him once more, stroking his head. "Find us at night. They'll kill you the minute you walk through those gates if you come with us now. Stay here, catch a rabbit, sleep, find something to do. The minute it gets dark, come in over the roofs. I'll be waiting for you."

Toothless growled and grumbled, but eventually gave a short, grudging bark. She pressed her cheek to the broad, blunt head.

"Thanks, Toothless," she murmured, and he pressed his nose gently against her belly. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be careful," she said in exasperation. "Honestly, between you and Stoick…"

Toothless huffed, before turning and climbing a tree, furling his wings around himself and arranging them with finicky precision. She shook her head at him, and turned to Ruff.

"Are we good to go?" Astrid asked.

"What are you going to ride now?" Ruff returned pointedly, and Astrid wrinkled her nose.

"Are we going to be doing much riding once we get in there?" she wondered.

"Hello, seen the size of that place?" Ruff rubbed the back of her neck. "Waaaaay too big to be walking around all day."

"Get in the cart with Fishlegs," Phlegma ordered as she passed by, leading the carthorse back to the two-wheeled thing. "You can't be joltin' up an' down without a saddle."

"Aren't you the lucky one?" Ruff said dryly.

Astrid sighed and raised her eyebrows, and Ruff blew a dismissive raspberry. "Well, my butt is a general war zone right now," she grumbled. Astrid stifled her grin.

"Come on," she said instead of laughing, and hauled herself up into the tray of the cart as Phlegma hitched the horse between the poles. It was getting harder to pull herself up – the baby had decided to have a small growth spurt over the last two days, and she was definitely feeling heavier.

"Astrid?" Fishlegs struggled up to his elbows as she sat herself beside him. She stretched out her back and crossed her legs, trying to get comfortable.

"Hey, 'Legs," she said absently. "We're heading into the city now."

Fishlegs bit his lip. "Oh," he said, and Astrid tipped her head at his tone.

"What?" she asked – a bit testily, she had to admit. Being so near to Rome (and Hiccup) had her on edge.

"It's just… Rome," he said tentatively, and she blew out a breath.

"Yeah," she sighed, and leaned back against the tray's edge.

They weren't stopped at the gate, although several men in leather uniforms with long pikes looked at them very suspiciously. Stoick led the way through, and the streets quickly became a narrow, twisted maze of people and carts and produce. They eventually reached a large square, where the press of bodies forced them to stop. It was deafening and crowded and utterly _baffling. _Spitelout's expression was somehow mortally offended by the riot of colour and noise, and Snotlout's was fascinated, his eyes alight and his mouth stretched in a rictus of astonishment.

Astrid found it simply _horrible_. How were they ever to find Hiccup in all this?

"Hey, Astrid?" Fishlegs sucked in a breath as his slight turn pulled at his healing wounds, "you okay?"

"Look at this!" she waved at the overwhelming bustle, the teeming mass of people that were blocking their path. "How in Hel's name are we ever to find one person in all of _this_? This is hopeless!"

"Uh," Fishlegs smiled a bit nervously and fumbled at his notebook, "well I had an idea about that, and I know I'm not as good as Hiccup at it, but… I drew this."

He tore a page from the book and handed it to her. It was a crude drawing of her skinny young man, his hair, his eyes, his foot.

His crooked smile.

She bit her lip to stop herself from doing anything potentially embarrassing. "Thanks, Fishlegs," she mumbled eventually.

"I can never draw hands properly," he said apologetically, and she laughed weakly.

"It's fine," she said, and looked back down at the sketch. "It's him."

"Excuse me?" came an unfamiliar voice, and Astrid turned her head to see a strange man peering at them, his eyes flicking down to the drawing and back to her. "You are Northlanders?"

"Vikings," she corrected, and then realised that the man had spoken Norse instead of that lilting babble. "Oh, thank Odin! You speak Norse!"

He was a strange looking man, huge and tall and forbidding and yet somehow solid and reassuring, like a mountain peak. His grizzled hair was long and wild, his beard plaited in two thin braids. But the strangest part was the designs painted all over his face and arms with blue dye. She had never seen anyone like him before.

"I speak Norse," he affirmed. He had a deep, rich voice, though his accent was also a little strange, and he placed the emphasis incorrectly on certain words. She frowned.

"You're not a Viking," she said slowly, and he smiled, showing straight white teeth.

"No," he agreed easily. "I am a Briton."

"Astrid, ask him about…" Fishlegs began, but he was interrupted by the sudden attention of Stoick and Gobber.

"Astrid, who's this?" Stoick said, eyeing the man cautiously. The Briton simply stood and allowed him to.

"Don't know, but he speaks Norse," Astrid replied, never taking her eyes from the stranger. "He says he's a Briton."

"Long way from home," Gobber commented, and the man threw back his head and laughed.

"Ah, you are not the first to say this to me," he chuckled.

"Well, it _is_ a bit of a swim," Gobber shrugged.

The man looked at the scrap of paper in Astrid's hands and then at her. "Do you wish to hear how I talk back?" he asked in amusement, not allowing them time enough to answer before he continued, "I tell the boy that it was even further to his cold lands."

"The boy?" Stoick said sharply, and the man smiled again.

"Yes," he paused. "_That_ boy," he nodded at the picture.

Astrid's heart leapt into her throat. Her hands were suddenly clammy, and her every nerve was instantly alive even as her body froze into immobility. She barely heard Stoick's gasp and Gobber's small exclamation. All she could think was _here it is. Thank you, Frigga, Odin, Urd. Thank you._.

"You… where is he?" she said in a voice suddenly dry as dust.

"I do not know," he said simply. "He was an arena slave with me. He tamed dragons and did not kill. I was granted my freedom by the Senate before I hear that he is gone from the slave-barracks. The woman Nemesis refused to kill him in a duel, the rumour has it."

The man looked a little closer at her then. "Ah, you are his wife," he said softly. "He speaks of you. He has your hair on a small bag at his throat."

Astrid nodded. Her eyes were wet, she realised, and she dashed the tears away roughly. "We have to find him," she said hoarsely. "Will you help us?"

He nodded gravely. "Hiccup is as my younger brother for my time as the arena-slave. I have lost my lands, my people, my crown, but he is teaching me better Norse and make me to laugh again. I begin my thinking that I must be ready to talk as well – and so I talk to the Emperor, I talk to Senate. I am free, and all to talking. He has done great things. He is great hero – and he is my friend. I wish to be helping."

Astrid took a deep breath and tried to find her spiralling centre as Stoick rumbled in a choked voice, "aye, that's my boy…"

"You are his father?" The Briton seemed surprised at that, and tilted his head. "You do not look like him…"

"Ah, no, that's been mentioned a time or two," Gobber said dryly. "That's Stoick o' Berk, the girl's Astrid, an' that's Fishlegs. Over there's Phlegma an' Spitelout, the matching pair are Ruff an' Tuff, an' that's Snotlout with his finger in his nose. The big one's Hensteeth, Fishlegs' father, an' I'm Gobber the Belch. Hiccup's my apprentice."

"Ah, Smith-god," the Briton smiled, and Gobber looked taken aback. "This is what they call him in the arena. Vulcan, Roman Smith-god. Very right for him!" He made a strange bow, his hands pressed over his chest. "I am Caratacus of the Catuvellauni. Come, I have been granted a small house. We will rest and eat there, and talk of ways to begin this search."

"I like this guy," Gobber said decisively.

The house that Caratacus mentioned was not far. It became apparent that they had been hemmed in by the outer edge of a vast market, which was the reason why it had become impossible to make it through the crowds. The bustling people fell away as he led them down a small alley to a small square ringed by a two-floored, rough-hewn wooden building. The second floor was ringed with wide windows and balconies, a staircase leading up to it from the hard-packed dirt. After picketing their horses by a large water-trough, Caratacus led them up it to an airy living area, a bed in one corner and a three-legged metal stove in another. He slung a pot over the stove and rose before turning to them.

"I am afraid I do not have so much to seat you," he said, inclining his head in dignified apology. "I am free for only three weeks, and the Senate have not made all choices about that freedom. I know they did not mean on granting it to me," he added with a small quirk of his lips.

"How'd you manage that, then?" asked Phlegma, and the man looked back at the stove, a look of intent satisfaction in his deep eyes.

"I spoke to them," he said simply.

"Must've been some speech," Snotlout commented, and Caratacus looked up.

"Yes. It was," he replied, and the quirk of his lips became more pronounced. "As I am saying now, this does not give me a seat to give the lady…"

Astrid raised her eyebrows, before seating herself on the floor pointedly and crossing her legs. Caratacus laughed softly.

"I see he does not exaggerate about you," he said, amused. "More apology."

He regarded her for a moment, and then said, "he will be very pleased about the, what he said, er, 'kid'."

She looked down at herself. "He'd better be," she muttered, before swallowing hard and looking back up into the man's calm face. "We ran into the ship that captured the _other_ ship that stole him in the first place. We got a name from one of them; the slave-trader, Balbus. We should start there."

"I know this man," Caratacus said darkly. "He is rich on other men's misery. An evil man. I will find where he lives, and we will make him a visit."

"I _really_ like this guy," said Gobber, and his smirk promised impending violence.

The pot upon the stove turned out to hold an onion porridge of some sort, lightly spiced and flavourful but meatless. Astrid quite liked it, but it could have done with some preserved cabbage. There was salted bread, however, and a flagon of water. The Vikings ate quickly and then Ruff slapped Tuff into washing up. Caratacus slipped away briefly to ask about the whereabouts of Balbus' house as they washed their hands and faces.

He returned just as Tuff was sulkily rinsing the last bowl, nursing his 'very much hurt' arm. "He is upon a near hill," Caratacus announced as he entered the courtyard.

"Then let's go," Stoick said impatiently, but Caratacus held up a hand briefly.

"He has body guard, a man Gracchanus," he said warningly. "This is a crazy man who lives only for blood. We must be careful."

Astrid pulled her headcloth tighter, pushing her fringe under it roughly, before picking up her axe and giving it a virtuosic spin. "Oh, we'll be careful all right," she said grimly.

"We'll be careful about _all sorts_ of things," Stoick said, his hammer flicking into his fist.

Gobber clicked the axe-head into his arm, and stood, scratching at his chin. "Right, well, there's the obligatory posin' taken care of, thanks for that, you two. Shall we go kill 'em now, then?"

* * *

(1) Modern day Utrecht, Netherlands.

* * *

_Claudius (Full name at birth: Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus, later Tiberius Claudius Augustus Caesar Germanicus) was hated and shunned as an embarrassment by most of his family throughout his life (10 BC - 54 AD). Due to an illness as an infant, the naturally scholarly Claudius was left with a limp, a stammer, slight deafness and according to some sources an intermittent tremor in his hands and head. His own mother called him 'a monster of a man.' _

_Despite these setbacks, he made a name for himself as a scholar and translator, gaining a reputation for bookish cleverness. __His family tore itself apart through never-ending struggles for power, while he was always side-lined. Perhaps this is the only reason he survived. __After the assassination of Caligula (41 AD) and the murder of his family, the Praetorian Guard found Claudius hiding from the assassins behind a curtain. They declared the middle-aged man the new Emperor, despite his protests._

_Claudius was an ambitious builder, reformer and adjudicator of law. Under him, the Empire went through a great surge of expansion, including the annexing of the British Isles (begun in 42 AD).  
_

_Caratacus of the Catuvellauni made a speech to the Roman Senate that so impressed them with his strength and nobiity that he was granted his freedom rather than an undignified execution. He was allowed to live out his life in Rome._


	18. Chapter 18

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Arrgh OVER 200 reviews! Arrgh! *Flails* Cos you guys are lovely (and cos I'm feeling guilty about not posting a chapter today due to this morning's work - which was _dire_) here's another one! And I'm SO excited to hear what you think of it!

**The Incredible Puba: **It all comes to a head now! Thank you! *g*** clockwork mockingbird: **Well, this should make things better for him! So glad you're still enjoying this so much! **Ze Great Camicazi: **Here we go! *deep breath* Hope you like! **Leon Woon: **Silly Hiccup, running off. A punch in the arm is required! Well, this should help! And oh yes, there will be blood. Muaahahah! **crouchbk: **Well, got to hit rock bottom before things start looking up (and they do!). And yes, the whole thing is finished - 26 chapters of it! Thank you so much! (I looked up a site that told me a broken - but not shattered - jaw can heal to the point of regaining speech in twelve weeks. Don't know how accurate that is, though *shrug*) **alluring alliteration: **I know, I'm not getting the notices for the reviews in my email either, and am checking them on the site instead. It seems to be having a cranky moment. Bad people bashing ahoy! **cindlemain:** Claudius is more worried about keeping it under wraps, as if it were known publicly that his wife was plotting against Britannicus it would upset a lot of people. But Hiccup should have gotten medical assistance, definitely! Silly boy, running off like that. And I'm sooo glad you liked Gobber's final line! It's one of my favourites :) **Vlad Taltos: **Whoops, sorry - have some more! So nervous about this one, I hope you like it! And oh my... O.O Thank you SO much! I'm flabbergasted! Thank you, thank you, thank you! **Foxy's Girl: **The Briton loved the brownies! He thanks you very much XD Poor Claudius and Britannicus, I always thought they got such a raw deal. Thank you dear Foxy Lady! **Voldyne: **Poor Hiccup indeed! Thank you, and here's the next one! **childofthestorm: **I know, boy needs to pick himself up again. But he's tried that, and every idea and every plan has fallen through in a big heap, and he's a long way from a home he thinks may not be there for much longer. Poor little chicken. Yay Caratacus! And yay more Viking head-bashing! *g* Thank you so much! **Cedric Bale: **Oh, I'm so happy you enjoyed 'Talking' - and I'm actually fonder of this one as well as I've spent so much more time with it. The plot outline is the work of the talented psychicsaphie, and I think you'll agree that she's an evil genius! The historical characters, many subplots and the personal relationship stuff is all me, though. I'm so stoked you're enjoying it so much! Thank you so very much! **strider714: **Hey Strider! Thank you so much! Glad you enjoyed the Roman political intrigue stuff, I'm loving that bit myself! The angst _is_ a bit thick on the ground at this point, but it's for good reason, I assure you! Yay Gobber! (I love that line, might be the funniest moment I've ever written!) Yay violence - and here's some more! **story master:** Hi there story master! I like the idea, could be interesting! I hope your cousin is okay. However I do wish you would sign in and message me, rather than sending a story idea in a review. I hope you're still reading my story? Still enjoying it? **Negra: **I know, arrgh! I'm not getting the notifications for reviews either, so I'm reading them on the site instead *sigh* The mailbot's got the wobbles, I think. So happy you like all the Roman history! I am LOVING the excuse to research it, oooh, it's so convoluted! I hope I surprise you with this one! **massinvader: **Hee! And yes more action, and lots more Toothless! Here we are, and thank you so much!

*DEEEEEEP BREATH*

Here we go!

* * *

He stumbled into the forum, his eyes burning, lost in a world of pain inside his head.

The other beggars eyed him suspiciously, guarding their hard-fought places along the forum's walls.

Politicians in palanquins sailed past like ships, and hard-faced vigiles patrolled the outskirts. In one corner, the day's schooling was coming to an end and the shrieks of children joined the cries of the beggars.

He didn't call out to the rich passers-by. He sank to the ground, his long, matted hair covering his face.

Just another beggar in a city full of beggars.

* * *

"This way," said the Briton, and they followed him from his house through a series of twisting, cramped streets lined with crooked houses. The stink of people living in too-close proximity was overpowering, and Astrid wondered how they dealt with it. The streets were dotted at intervals with large fountains and wells, the 'Claudian Water' Caratacus called them.

They pushed their way through the crowds and into a large square thronging with people. "The forum," Caratacus said shortly. "Watch your possessions. Some of these beggars are light-fingered."

Snotlout's eyes narrowed at the filthy figures lining the walls, their hands outstretched. "Gross," he said disgustedly. "Some of 'em are _dead_."

"And no one's cleaned up the bodies?" Fishlegs wrinkled his nose, his arm slung over Ruffnut's shoulders as she helped him along. He'd protested that he could walk just fine, but she crossed her arms and drawled at him and the battle was lost. "That's a level nine health hazard."

"Vigiles to clean at night," Caratacus said, stepping over a slumped, ragged form. "Ignore them."

Astrid grimaced as she looked at the rows of pitiful humanity, wondering what could bring a person to such a desperate state. They gabbled at her in their strange language, holding out their hands, and she lifted her axe meaningfully. They scattered like insects, all but the dead one slumped in a pile against the wall. She shook her head, and turned her mind back to business.

The sun was setting as Caratacus led them to a beautiful house with a large bound door. "This is the house of the slave-trader Balbus," he said in a tense voice.

"Hensteeth, want to do the honours?" Stoick asked politely, and the massive man smiled faintly and knocked.

There came a muffled noise that was recognisable as a curse, no matter the language, and approaching footsteps that paused as though the person behind the door were composing themselves. Caratacus slung a heavy two-handed broadsword from his back as the others also unlimbered their weapons.

Astrid hefted her axe and bent her kness slightly, her weight further forward on the balls of her feet than it used to be. The door creaked inwards, and a grossly fat man and a sharp faced woman gaped for a split second before Hensteeth shouldered his inexorable way into the small atrium and picked the man up without a single sign of physical exertion.

"Where's Hiccup?" he asked pleasantly.

The rest of their party pushed inside after their Ingerman battering-ram, Ruff and Tuff slinking around the two Romans to encircle them from behind. Spitelout grabbed the woman's arm and pointed his axe in her white face. "Talk!" he barked.

There was a brief silence.

"Might want to try that in Romanese," Gobber sighed, and Stoick turned to Caratacus, who looked bemused.

"If you would?" asked Stoick in that same polite voice.

Caratacus was obviously confused by the lack of immediate bloody vengeance, but turned to the fat man and asked a short question in that lilting language. The fat man was sweating like a pig, his round face red and rivulets running down his forehead. He gasped and shrieked in reply, his stubby legs kicking underneath his toga.

"Alvin has taken him," Caratacus translated. "The boy was freed after the duel at the Octavian Amphitheatre, but he was wounded. This man says that he is the great Gnaeus Appius Balbus and he tells me to tell you that you can have any of the things you wish, that he can grant this. If you wish for money or power or slaves, he can grant this."

Stoick's lip curled. "Where did Alvin take him?"

Balbus' eyes, whites showing in fear, rolled to Stoick and his reddened face paled. He babbled some more, and the tinkling of fluid hitting the tiles beneath him began to accompany his panicked voice.

"Dis. Gust. Ing," said Ruffnut in horrified fascination.

Tuff and Snotlout just sniggered.

"He does not know, he swears it by his gods. He doesn't have the boy any more. He had the boy, was charged with his care after the duel with…" Caratacus broke off, staring hard at the man, and then began asking more questions in a faster voice.

"Duel with who?" Astrid asked, her breath catching. Gods, not again, no, not another duel, not again…

"Ast-reed," the woman said suddenly, her white face lifted and her gaze trained directly on Astrid. "Hicahp… _Ast-reed_."

"What the Hel…?" Astrid's mouth dropped open. The woman tapped her throat significantly, before lifting the hand not caught in Spitelout's grip to point at the girl.

"Ast-reed," she said firmly.

"How does she know…?" Astrid met Stoick's eyes. He looked just as bewildered as she felt. She shook off her moment of confusion and walked to the woman, her axe held low, protectively.

She nodded once. "Astrid," she confirmed in a low voice, before her brow creased. "How does she know my name?"

Caratacus asked the woman, and she held herself still and tall and proud as she answered him. "Hiccup told her," Caratacus said in surprise. "The night he arrived in Rome. He showed her his ring and your hair. She was fond of him."

"_Fond_ of him?" Astrid asked in growing befuddlement. "His slaver?"

"She is not slaver, she is slaver's wife," Caratacus explained. "Women here have not the power they do in my lands – or yours, it would seem. She does not do this willingly. She is fond of him like brother. She tried to be kind to him, she says."

Caratacus gestured to Spitelout, who reluctantly released the woman's arm. The royalty of the gesture could not be missed. "She says her name is Plotina."

Astrid met the woman's gaze once more. Her sharp, tired face was free of emotion despite its paleness, but her eyes were steady and sad as she looked on the younger woman. "She says," Caratacus added, "that he will make a fine father."

Astrid nodded again slowly, never taking her eyes from the woman. "So can she tell us where he is?" she asked, and Caratacus relayed the question, but the woman was shaking her head before he had finished.

"They took him after he was brought here to recuperate," Caratacus translated. "The duel wounded his front and side, and his false foot was broken. The woman Nemesis revealed that she is…" he stopped again.

"That's the woman he fought, right?" Gobber said, and Caratacus sighed, before turning to Stoick.

"I am sorry to cause you this pain," he said softly. "She says the woman Nemesis would not… would not kill her own son."

Stoick didn't move, his eyes growing wider and wider. Finally he said in a hoarse whisper, "mind repeatin' that?"

Caratacus murmured something to the woman and her face cleared with understanding. "She says she did not know, you do not look like Hiccup at all. The slave Nemesis threw down her weapon… and gave her freedom to her son."

Stoick began to tremble, barely perceptible at first but growing in strength before his whole body was shaking violently. His breath had stopped, but it escaped him in one huge shuddering exclamation of loss. "She's dead," he choked. "She's been dead for years, an' it's a cruel thing you do to raise her memory. Haven't I lost enough…?"

"Wait!" Caratacus exclaimed. "She swears it is true! Hiccup told her that she was gone when he was little, on a ship. He thought her dead. He did not even know she was alive, and fighting in the arenas of Rome. She swears it to be true!"

"Stoick," Gobber said in an urgent voice, clomping over to grab his friend's shoulder. "Stoick, keep it together…"

Stoick looked as though he were going to crumble or howl the building down in rage, Astrid couldn't tell. He gripped Gobber's shoulder in return, using his friend's presence to ground himself back into the moment. His lips were peeled from his teeth in a silent snarl of anguish. "She's…"

"Well, if she is, we'll get her back too," Gobber said firmly, shaking his battle-brother's shoulder. "But right now, let's kill the fat one an' get out o' here before-"

A scream of bloodlust interrupted him. "Oh great," he said in resignation.

"So that's the crazy man?" Fishlegs asked as Iulius Gracchanus, his mouth open around a shriek of insane joy, ran thunderously down the corridor towards them with a long sword raised over his head in one hand and brandishing a gladius in the other. Foam was actually gathered in the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were alive with mad savagery.

Until his forehead sprouted feathers.

"Great shot," Astrid said to Ruff, who shrugged.

"Could've been further away," she said with a lazy sidelong look at her brother. Tuffnut folded his arms in exasperation.

"You know the best part about having to move to Phlock to get a girlfriend?" he said sourly to Snotlout. "I don't have family in Phlock."

"Come on, Stoick," Gobber said gently. "Let's get out o' here."

"One second," Astrid said in a steely voice, walking over to the slave-trader. "Hensteeth, if you could…?" she asked, and Hensteeth gave her a dubious look before finally placing the slaver down into the puddle that had formed under him.

"Caratacus, if you could?" she asked in the same hard tone, and he bowed his grizzled head in acknowledgement. "I want him to know something before he dies."

"I will translate for you," he said calmly.

"Thank you," she said, before turning back to the slave trader who was gibbering in fear. "I am going to teach you a lesson now," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "But I think you should really know why - otherwise there _is_ no lesson, is there? Now, here are the reasons. First, you made a deal to steal my husband. You stole him away when I needed him."

She could feel her throat tightening. Her pulse was beating in her ears like a war-drum. This scum would pay.

"You stole moments that we should have had," she continued, her hand creeping over the rise of her belly. "You stole his safety and his freedom and you put him in a cage. And then, _you did it again_."

"Astrid," Ruff said softly.

Astrid lifted her axe. "You shouldn't have done that," she said slowly, and the man's eyes lifted to the wickedly sharp blade hovering over his head. "And you shouldn't have done it again."

She brought the axe down.

"Now let's get Stoick out of here," she said, wiping at where a splash of arterial spray had caught her cheek. Plotina grabbed her arm, shaking her head. The woman was white faced, but mastered herself with a visible effort. She ushered them towards the back of the house, where a small alley led away from the villa back to the main city.

"She says the neighbours watch each other," Caratacus said, "safer to leave where one cannot be seen."

The baby started kicking as they made off into the falling night.

* * *

He was rolled over by one of the vigiles just after sunset. He slid his eyes away.

"Can't stay here," the man grunted, and left him.

A cart rattled past, several bodies piled onto it. He watched it dully, before standing and tottering towards one of the alleys.

There'd be a doorway he could sleep in nearby.

* * *

Astrid made her way after the broad back of the Briton. She could hear Stoick's harsh breathing behind her. Gobber had a firm grip on his friend's shoulder, leading him in his stunned state.

Astrid couldn't imagine how he must be feeling. She wasn't even sure how long it had been since Hiccup's mother sailed away. It was simply the way things always had been. Hiccup's mother was dead, Stoick was a widower, and intended to stay that way. That was how it had always been.

She pulled her mind away from those thoughts and listened for the tell-tale beat of wings. Toothless would be coming to find her soon, and with no other leads as to Hiccup's whereabouts they would have to rely on the dragon's keen nose.

It was no time at all before a soft _crunch_ on a nearby roof made her release the breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. "Toothless," she sighed in relief. "Any trouble?"

The dragon whickered a negative as he slunk down from the roof to a balcony, before leaping lithely beside her. She rubbed his head as he sniffed her over briefly for any damages, and then he sat down on his haunches, his ear flicking and a questioning look on his shadowed face.

Astrid shook her head. "Dead end – well, dead end when it comes to _Hiccup_. Other things have turned up though…" she trailed off and her eyes darted to Stoick.

Stoick seemed to have shut down inside. His body was present, but his mind was a million miles away. He didn't even react to the mention of the shocking news, but simply stayed where Gobber had put him as Astrid greeted Toothless.

The Briton had paused in leading them through the twisting alleys, and was regarding the Night Fury with wide-eyed interest. "This is his best friend?" he asked curiously, the only indication of alarm being the slight stiffness of his body.

"Yeah. His name's Toothless," Astrid said absently, rubbing the dragon's ear. "Big guy, we need your nose. We don't have a thing on where he is now. You have to track him. Can you…" she broke off as he immediately began to sniff the air, his eyes narrowing to slits of concentration. "Out of his way," Astrid ordered, and their group edged backwards to allow Toothless to pass.

He eventually gave a short bark and began to flow like oil down the alley, his wings folded tightly to his back. He led them through several of the crowded squares by leaping up to the roofs and creeping along them, his body pressed as low as possible, before dropping down when the coast was clear. On one occasion he startled a drunk who was passed out in a doorway, but Snotlout simply dropped the butt of his axe upon the gaping man's head. His eyes rolled up and he fell like a tree into the waiting arms of Ruffnut and Phlegma, who dragged him back into the doorway and propped him up.

"You work well together," Caratacus said approvingly.

"We're a village," said Spitelout, shrugging.

"Besides, if you will keep such stunning pets," added Gobber archly, and the Briton smiled faintly.

"He is a remarkable animal. I now see how Hiccup means that he is intelligent like a human. I wonder if the Welsh dragons could be trained…"

"I don't see why not," Fishlegs chimed in. "On average, all dragons are possessed of the same amount of intelligence, some have sharper instinctual habits, but…"

"Shh, 'Legs," said Ruff, but fondly. "We're moving again."

Toothless was scurrying now, more agitated. His forepaws danced over the ground as though trying to trap a speck of light. Astrid glanced at Stoick, who still seemed lost in shock and remembered grief. "Is he going to be okay?" she hissed at Gobber.

"Don't know for sure," Gobber admitted, scratching his cheek. "He was like this for months after the wreck of Val's ship was found. We've got to get the man's family back – that's the only thing as might help."

"Well, we're working on the one," she pointed out. "Any ideas on the other?"

"The Octavian Amphitheatre," Caratacus said in his deep, soft voice. "That is where the woman Nemesis, Hiccup and I were trapped. There are the games in honour of the Emperor's father upon the day after tomorrow. The barracks are patrolled by private guards, and the arena itself is guarded by legions. It will take planning."

"Well, at least there's tomorrow," Gobber said sourly, watching the Night Fury.

Suddenly Toothless stopped, his head jerking up, and he let out a cry of hope and surprise. His wings half-unfurled, and he began to race, to run as fast as he could down the crooked streets.

"He's got a scent!" yelled Tuffnut, and the whole group began to run after the dragon, who was rapidly outpacing them. Astrid gritted her teeth as the pace began to wear her down but stubbornly kept going, though she began to fall towards the back of the group along with Fishlegs. Her hand clamped under her belly, trying to stop the jolt of gravity as her booted feet pounded the cobbled stones.

The route Toothless took was dizzying; through streets crowded with people screaming in shock at the sight of the unfamiliar and determined dragon, then down tiny little lanes which curled around like the flick of a tail, then through half-deserted plazas and through private courtyards and over bridges.

Up at the head of the line, Phlegma began calling out the directions back to Astrid, Fishlegs and Ruff, who was helping Fishlegs. Though his legs were fine, the pace was putting too much strain on his wounded torso, and he braced stiffly against his fiancée as he ran.

"Left!" Phlegma roared. Astrid veered, her heart pounding.

"Right after the fountain!"

"Second right again – ale cart, watch out!"

"Hard left!"

As they began to gain on the others due to the presence of more people in the streets, a square opened up before them, mostly empty. Astrid recognised the place the Briton had called 'the Forum'.

Toothless skidded to a halt, his head nosing at the ground, his eyes wild, before he pivoted as fast as only a Night Fury can and hared off towards one of the side streets. He darted left, then the second right, then the fourth left again and stopped so abruptly that his human entourage slammed into his back and half-open wings.

There, curled in a doorway, was a young man.

His hair was long, matted and filthy, falling over his face. The colour was obscured to a muddy brown due to all the muck in it, but here and there glints of red could be seen. A scrubby beard covered his face, and he was rake-thin. His arms and legs were pulled underneath him to conserve warmth, but the glint of metal peeked from under the hem of a ragged, smeared tunic.

Astrid couldn't face it. She couldn't stop herself.

She fell forward onto her hands and knees, her breath rasping after their long run, her hands shaking as she crawled hurriedly to him and carefully turned the filthy head around to face her.

Green eyes blinked and flickered open.

"Hiccup…?" she said, the hope so huge it could choke her.

He blinked again, before letting out a cry and scrabbling backwards away from her. The metal was revealed as a mended prosthetic foot covered in etched Night Furies. His emaciated neck was encircled by a red thread, upon which a muck-covered, fraying felt pouch hung. His arms trembled as he braced himself against the door. She reached out to him, her eyes filling.

_What had they _done_ to him…?_

"You're not real," he said, and his voice was lost and hopeless and dull. "I've finally gone mad. You're not real. You can't be real. You're dead. You're all dead. Everyone's dead and it's all my fault and now I'm going mad…"

She felt her heart constrict with horror. "No, I'm real! I'm here! Hiccup, it's me!"

He shook his head, his voice rasping on, a toneless sound of despair. "You didn't get it right, anyway - Astrid doesn't wear smocks, she wears armoured shirts and Toothless doesn't come into cities and Dad never looks broken… besides, they're dead, they're all dead and you're all in my head, all hail the Great. Big. Hero, can't even get you right in his own head.…"

"Hiccup…?" she half-sobbed, her hand stretching for him.

He curled around himself again, and began to rock himself slowly, comfortingly. "It's okay… it's okay, boy, easy, easy…" he murmured. "Easy, fella…"

Astrid recognised with crushing dismay his usual dragon-training litany.

"Hiccup, it's me," she pleaded frantically, and her eyes were now spilling everywhere. "Please believe me!"

"Shhh," he said soothingly, and dropped his head down.

"You have to believe me," she begged. "Hiccup… _please_ look at me, _please!_"

She shunted herself forward slowly to try and get closer, and froze as he suddenly spoke, his tone flat with disbelief.

"Stop," he said, and his eyes were fixed to her belly.

She bit her lip and looked up into his face. His green eyes were enormous in his filthy face, his mouth half-open. He appeared utterly dumbfounded and stricken. "But…." he said in a plaintive voice, "you're dead, Astrid… you can't be… we can't… and you don't wear smocks anyway…"

She swallowed, then gently reached out and took his hand and pressed it to her belly.

"I do now," she said softly.

Hiccup made a noise high in his throat as movement fluttered under his palm.

"I told you," she said in a low, rough voice, "that I would hunt you down if you weren't home soon. And you, Hiccup Haddock, should know that I always keep my word."

He raised disbelieving eyes from his hand to her face, and his trembling lips parted slightly.

"Real…" he said hoarsely.

"Yep," she said, smiling through her tears. "And so's the smock. And so's the baby."

"That's…" his voice cracked, and his gaze dropped to his hand again.

"That's our baby," she confirmed.

"I…" he began, and then his face twisted with an unnameable emotion, and he caught and grabbed her in his rail-thin arms, holding her too tightly, pushing off her headcloth and burying his face in her hair. Taking a huge, deep shuddering breath, he began to sob – not the juddering sobs of a boy, but the long tearing ones of a man who has been through Hel.

Astrid pushed her own face into his shoulder. He was too hot, he was burning up, he was sick, he was…he was _alive_. Too thin and filthy but _alive_. She was crying herself and didn't care who saw it, tears slipping silently from her face to soak into his ragged tunic. He was _alive_.

He pulled away from her hair to grab her face in both hands and kiss her, and then again, and then again, his tears mingling with hers on their lips. He tasted like Hiccup, and Astrid felt her tears redouble at the rightness of it, the nearness, _alive_, so alive, so him.

He was kissing her all over her face, leaving fingerprints on her cheeks and smears on her nose as the filth rubbed off him. She didn't care. She couldn't care.

He abruptly stopped pressing his frantic kisses all over her face and held her at arms length, urging her up. She stood awkwardly, her weight shifting, and he immediately shuffled to his knees, his face awed and frightened as he framed the dome of her belly between his quivering hands.

He darted a look up at her, and she buried a hand in his matted hair. It was dirty but as thick as ever. Slowly and hesitantly, he laid his cheek against her stomach, his expression wondering.

"I thought…" he choked.

"I know. You said," she said quietly, threading her fingers through the snarled locks. "We need to get food in you."

"You don't understand," he said desperately, his hands reverent as they smoothed over the hard, taut skin. "I thought you were _dead_, everything… and it was all my… and _now_ you're…"

"You just don't want to finish a sentence today, do you," she smiled tremblingly. "And for the record, I was since before you left. Who do you think put it there?"

"That's _ours…_" he whispered incredulously, and the baby kicked him in the ear.

"That answers that," she laughed through her tears. "Come on, get up. Toothless and your dad have been waiting for ages."

"They're _here_…" Hiccup breathed as he stood clumsily, his eyes almost fearful as he turned them to the group. Astrid smoothed over the gaunt line of his shoulders and reluctantly began to push him forward, but he grabbed her hand and tugged her with him.

"I am never going anywhere without you again," he said in an urgent, fervent voice.

She smiled. "Good."

And then they were wrapped in Stoick's thick arms and black dragon's wings.

* * *

He clung to her as they led him through the streets.

He clung to her as his weak legs failed and Hensteeth had to carry him to the Briton's house.

He clung to her as she washed him, her eyes dripping at the sight of his wasted body, his wounds, the angry infection in his side.

He clung to her as they sliced open his infected wound to drain the evil fluids, as they poured wine and vinegar over it to sterilise it.

He clung to her as she cut off his hair and shaved him, her hand cupping his cheek once she'd finished. "There you are," she said. He smiled.

He clung to her as they slept in the Briton's own bed, his hand resting on her distended belly.


	19. Chapter 19

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

WOW. What a response! Thank you all so very much! **Strider714: **I take it that's approval! *g* Thanks! And OPERATION: NEMESIS is about to come into effect! **K:** My goodness, thank you so much! I'm so glad you're enjoying this! **Kat:** Thank you! And yes, a few things up my sleeve still! **Ordgar:** The rescue is afoot! Here we go! **darkmaster7987:** I was pretty fond of Gracchanus' 'chump death' too! RAAAARGH-thud. Thank you, I'm so happy you liked the reunion! Alvin and Agrippina certainly aren't done quite yet, and our guys need to find Val. Not much fluff time no, but poor wounded Hiccup needs a moment or two to sort himself out. **mabinogi: **Wow, what a piece of music! The middle section does indeed remind me of a Roman marketplace - and that opening makes me think of how Val would feel about the cliffs of Berk. The driving sense of movement in 'Rain Hammers' made me picture Astrid and Toothless in the bow of the longship. Thank you so much! **Leon Woon: **Hee, Gracchanus' death was so much fun. I'd carefully built him up as such a scary figure, and I really wanted a sort of anticlimactic, humorous moment to break up the pace of all that dramatic angst. **OmarBarria: **Thanks! I'm glad I surprised you a bit there! And here's the next one! **Ze Great Camicazi: **Aw, thanks so much! *blush* **The Incredible Puba: **Thank you! Well, he didn't really, but he ended up running into the forum and slumping down amongst the beggars that line the square. Because he's so dirty and all, he fits right in. **story master: **I'm fine with being called deter, Story master, and there's a link that says 'Sign Up' at the top right hand side of the screen, hope that helps. Glad you liked the chapter. **Foxy's Girl:** Aw, thanks and shucks! *Blush* Back atcha, awesome lady! **cindlemain: **Oh thank you and thanks to your hubby too! I'm always proud as punch when someone likes the historical details! And yes, I'm evil, making them walk right past Hiccup like that! They _did_ kill a Roman citizen, but let's hope that Plotina can cover it all up. **massinvader:** Yay, they found him! Thank you so much! **clockwork mockingbird: **I really do have to stop making you cry! At least these were happy tears, right? Poor hurt Hiccup! Here he is a-recuperating! Thank you! **childofthestorm:** Gah, indeed! GO ASTRID! *waves little flag* and Yay for Found!Hiccup! **Romance and Musicals: **Poor Claudius, I know! Thank you so much, I'm so happy you liked the reunion, and I agree, so sad with Hiccup thinking he's crazy at first. Poor boy. **lotesse. dreamwidth. org:** Oh my, thank you so much!

More!

* * *

Hiccup woke slowly, wrapped around his wife.

He immediately suppressed a gasp of engulfing reaction, and his arms tightened around her. It pulled on the reopened wound in his side, wrapped in bandages soaked in vinegar and wine. He couldn't even feel it. His wife, Astrid, _Astrid_, his beautiful, miraculous, pregnant wife who had circled the known world to find him.

He couldn't believe it, could barely even comprehend it. But the evidence was here, in his arms, her sun-gold hair loose and catching in his eyes and mouth, the firm mound of her abdomen, her slimly muscled arms, her long back, her strong hands with his ring sitting on her finger. He let out a shuddering breath and buried his face further in her wealth of hair. Astrid, oh, _Astrid_.

He'd thought…

But no. No, he couldn't let himself fall into that pit of despair once more, not when he held a miracle in his arms. She was alive. They were alive. They were all still alive.

He lost track of time as he lay there, holding her sleeping form.

He carefully extricated his arm from under her, a small smile crossing his lips as she made an unintelligible noise in her sleep. There were dark circles under her eyes, and he gently pressed a kiss to her cheek before scooting down in the bed and staring for a moment at the roundness of her belly under the bleached bedcovers.

It was all nothing short of a _miracle_.

It simply didn't seem real. A gold-tinged, hazy dream of what could be. He was going to be a father. Him. Hiccup Haddock. A dad.

He was glad he was lying down as that idea hit him once more with the impact of a Gronkle. He was sure his knees would have buckled. He could feel the muscles in his face pulling into an expression of frightened joy as he smoothed a trembling hand over her swollen stomach, before pressing another kiss to the same spot.

"If you were trying not to wake me up, too late," Astrid mumbled. "It's been kicking for half an hour."

Hiccup glanced up at her to meet her sleep-lidded eyes, and she grabbed his hand again and slid it around to the side of the hard dome under the blanket. "There," she said muzzily. "It's been drumming against my ribs."

Hiccup's mouth opened in awe as her taut skin rippled with movement under her smock. A foot. That was a foot.

"That was a foot," he said stupidly.

She smiled sleepily. "Yeah."

"Oh gods," Hiccup breathed.

She struggled up to her elbows to look at him with more clarity. "Are you feeling better?" she asked gently.

He swallowed, his hand chasing the quick movement under her skin. "Um…"

She rolled her eyes. "Apart from being completely stupid over the baby. It's just – Hiccup, you thought we were dead and that it was all your fault. What happened?"

He gave her a small, shaky smile. "It's a long story."

She ran her fingers through his newly-cut hair. "You're so thin," she said sadly.

"Always was," he shrugged, and she snorted.

"Not like this," she said firmly, and he glanced down at his torso, the ribs clearly visible, his hipbones sticking out like fins.

"Not like this," he agreed, and his head dropped down onto the rise of her belly. She kept carding her hand through his hair, waiting patiently for him to tell her.

He could hear a tiny, pattering heartbeat.

"It was Alvin," he said eventually. "He made a deal with a slaver and with the Empress to get the dragon-training knowledge for the Empire."

Astrid's quick intake of breath was the only reaction she betrayed. "Go on," she said evenly.

"I trusted him," said Hiccup bitterly. "I told him everything. And when we got here, he sold me into slavery and they put me in the Arena."

"I know," she said softly. "We paid a visit to Balbus."

He looked up at her, stricken. "Then you know…"

"About your mother," she concluded. "Yes."

His eyes grew huge, and a giant hand clamped around his chest. "Dad, oh gods, Dad, is he okay…? I can still remember, Astrid, how he was after she… he was the walking dead for half a year. I was so confused – I was only small… Phlegma had to take me in because Dad…"

"He's fine," came a deep voice from one side, and Hiccup's head whipped around to stare at his father, making his way towards them with a tray.

"Dad…" Hiccup began wretchedly, but Stoick sat down on the side of the bed and shook his head.

"I won't pretend I'm not still…" Stoick broke off, and his eyes dropped to the bowl of broth on the tray, his throat working furiously. 'But we've got you back. An' that's brought me back. An' now we'll get Val back too." His tone became faraway and longing at the last.

"Dad…" Hiccup repeated helplessly, the gnawing pit of guilt beginning to yawn under him. Stoick put the tray down on the end of the bed, before cupping the back of Hiccup's head in one giant hand.

"You did that last time, y'know," he said, a sad smile crossing the bearded face. "When I lost her, it were you who brought me back. My little boy who needed me to be strong fer him. You got a thing about savin' people, don't you, son?"

Hiccup struggled to sit up in the blankets to reach out to his father, but Astrid pulled him back against her. "Don't you pull on that side of yours," she said in her old, scolding way, and his eyes involuntarily filled. He cleared his throat to cover it.

"Dad, there's more," he said hoarsely. "They've got dragons… they're training dragons. And they're going to take out Berk first, because it's the only other place with them too. They've got this _huge_ sea-dragon, an Orionos, but I don't think she'll co-operate... well, I tried to make sure of that and Toothless is going to hate me so much…"

"Bloody lizard could never hate you," Stoick smiled, before his massive hand smoothed over Hiccup's face. "Son. Oh, my boy. Look at you. Astrid, get this into him, he's even skinnier than he used to be. Looks like a skeleton with green eyes."

"Oh, very flattering," Hiccup grumbled, but Astrid shushed him.

"Eat first, talk later," she said and Stoick nodded, standing.

"You can tell us the whole thing after you've put somethin' in that stomach o' yours," he said with a touch of his old demeanour. Hiccup could almost close his eyes and imagine he was twelve again, his father trying to feed him up before he was allowed to go tinker at the smithy. "An' then we'll make some plans."

"Plans?" Hiccup looked between them as Astrid scraped a spoonful of broth and held it up.

"Eat!" she said sternly, and he hurriedly took the mouthful. Stoick chuckled.

"Where'sh Tooflessh?" Hiccup asked around the chunky vegetable broth, and Astrid laughed softly, her eyes meeting Stoick's with fond understanding.

"He's been over there all night," Astrid said teasingly. "Honestly, Hiccup."

Hiccup whipped his head around to meet the glowing green eyes of his best friend, curled up like a cat upon the floor by the bed. "Oh," he said dumbly, and Stoick snorted quietly, shaking his head.

"Finish that, an' then come down to the courtyard," he said, moving towards the door and patting the Night Fury's head on the way. "Caratacus tells us he can give us the plans o' the slave barracks, an' sounds like you've got lots more of your tale to tell."

"Yes sir," Hiccup said, dumbstruck by his father's easy affection towards the dragon. Astrid popped the spoon into his mouth before he could say any more.

As Stoick's footsteps retreated down the staircase to the small courtyard below, Hiccup turned back to Astrid, a million questions in his eyes. She giggled at his expression.

"They've bonded a bit," she answered the most pressing one, and Hiccup's eyebrows rose.

"Wow," he said blankly. "Never, ever, not in a million years did I think that could happen. I expected Ragnarok first."

She looked down as she readied another spoonful of the broth. "I had to fly him," she said quietly. "A few times, actually. We were attacked by pirates, and he fired their ship, and then our longship crashed, and we had to…"

He cut her off with a kiss. "You remembered," he said breathlessly. "About the pedals…"

"Of course," she said indignantly, before grabbing the back of his neck and kissing him again.

He melted into it, his eyes fluttering shut._ Astrid._.

She yanked her mouth away, swallowing hard, her eyes suspiciously bright. "Eat," she growled, holding up the spoon again, and he made a face.

"I can feed myself, you know," he protested. She gave him a sceptical look, and held out the spoon silently.

When his hand reached out, it was trembling violently. She tilted her head. "Can you now?"

He sighed, and submitted to another spoonful of broth.

"Besides," she continued with a practical sniff, "it's good practise."

His eyes flicked down again, and he could feel his face creasing into that expression of foolish, petrified joy once more. She snorted, and shoved another spoonful into his mouth. "Sap," she accused.

"Hey, I jusht foun' out," he managed, and swallowed the mouthful. "Give a guy some credit."

She ducked her head once more, and her teeth worried her lower lip. "Oh, Hiccup…"

"Hey, no, no…" he said quietly, and pulled her forward into his shaking arms, the tray trapped on her diminishing lap. "Shh, Astrid, it's okay…"

He could feel the muscles in her jaw tightening, her face pressed against his sharp collarbone. She traced it with one hand. "I was terrified," she admitted in a low voice. "I was so scared. I didn't tell anyone about the baby until it was obvious and I couldn't hide it any more. I was afraid that if I admitted it, it was real, too real… I don't know if I'm going to be a good mother. I didn't know if I could raise a kid all by myself. I was so scared you were…" she choked.

"I'm okay," he said thickly. "I'm okay, Astrid, I promise. You're going to be an amazing mum. I promise that, too. And you should be punching my arm about now."

She smiled up at him, her face blotched from suppressing her tears. "Oh yeah?"

He smoothed her square face, her high forehead, the wide blue eyes. "Well, I stole your headscarf."

She huffed a laugh. "You idiot, you did too. Give it back."

"Can't. I gave it to my mum." He leaned his forehead against hers. Her eyes closed, and her fist rose and knocked softly against his upper arm.

"Take that," she said hoarsely.

"That all you got?" he teased, and she grabbed his head and kissed him.

"Shut up," she breathed against his lips, and dived into his mouth once more.

A bark from the floor made them break apart in surprise, and Hiccup was abruptly thrown back onto the pillows with a Night Fury licking his face frantically. "Oh gods, sorry, bud, sorry, sorry, sorry…!" he exclaimed as Toothless sniffed him over with barely-suppressed anxiety. "Didn't mean to leave you out, sorry, Toothless…" he clasped the roving head against his own. "I missed you too, buddy. I missed you so much."

Toothless crooned so hard his bones shook, and Hiccup immediately began scratching the spot under his ear. "Thank you, Toothless," he said in a cracking voice. "Thanks for coming to find me… and for looking after Astrid and Dad and Gobber and everyone… and… and…"

Toothless hooked a foreleg around him and gently pulled him close, whuffling over his hair. Hiccup threw his arms around the sinuous scaled body, and they held the embrace still and silent. Hiccup could feel the massive heart thudding against his ear as black wings enclosed him and hid him from the world. His fingertips slid over the so-familiar scales gratefully.

"You need honey-ointment, bud," he murmured.

Toothless snorted through his nose before pressing it to Hiccup's cheek. Then he unfurled himself and clambered wholly onto the end of the bed, which creaked under his weight alarmingly. He folded his legs under himself and gazed at Hiccup with wide eyes, as though he intended to watch him in such a manner for the rest of his life.

"You're lucky you didn't spill the broth," Astrid said pointedly to the dragon who ignored her loftily and continued to stare at Hiccup. Astrid made an amused noise between her teeth, and held up the spoon again.

Hiccup looked between them, his heart so painfully full it was pressing against his ribcage. "I love you," he said, and he didn't know which he was talking to.

Toothless blinked slowly and understandingly at him, a purr in his throat, as Astrid said tenderly, "we know. Eat up now."

He closed his eyes as, smiling, he submitted to another spoonful and began the slow journey back to himself.

* * *

Hiccup had to be helped down the stairs to the courtyard, though he felt a lot stronger after his long rest and the broth. Astrid had wordlessly propped his arm over her shoulders. He gave her a look of gratitude.

His friends all looked at him with mixed expressions of sorrow and joy – sorrow at his condition and joy at having him back. He gave them all a huge smile, unable to put his immense happiness at seeing them into words.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Gobber said warmly, before clearing his throat and continuing gruffly, "no really, you're makin' my eyes hurt. Sit down before you blow away."

Hiccup was led to a bench propped up against the courtyard wall, and he collapsed with a gusty sigh. "I am over being injured," he told them all plaintively. "Next time someone else can have the big painful adventure. I'm done. I quit."

There were chuckles at that, and Astrid sat beside him and took his hand. "Idiot," she said fondly.

"Abuse, now," he said in a mock-hurt voice. "Wow, making me feel welcome here…"

"Well, you are," she smiled, brushing a stray lock of his hair back from his face.

"It's good to have you back, loser," said Ruff, with a sly sidelong smirk at Astrid, "this one was whoa, sooooo getting on my nerves. Hiccup this, Hiccup that…"

Astrid scowled. "Yeah, and you were so much better. 'Ooooooh Fishy, he's so dreamy'! Gag me."

Ruff laughed wickedly. "Gladly, Fishing Basket."

"You try it, Thorston," Astrid grinned at the other girl, and they burst out laughing.

"There's something I'm missing here," Hiccup said uncertainly as he looked between his giggling wife and the sniggering Ruffnut.

"Yeah, like half your body weight," said Snotlout, slapping Hiccup on the back and then shaking his hand dramatically. "Sheesh, cousin, you're gonna cut someone with those shoulderblades."

Hiccup looked down at his body positively swimming in Tuffnut's spare tunic, his skinny legs wrapped in a spare pair of Tuffnut's leggings. "Need to eat up," he agreed, and Snotlout rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Sooo, yeah, good to see you," he said uncomfortably, only for Tuffnut to roll his eyes and push him out of the way.

"So you have got to tell me what the chicks-uh, I mean _girls_ are like in Phlock," he said eagerly, and Ruffnut smacked the back of his head.

"Trollface," she snorted.

Tuff looked injured. "What? I'm just asking…!"

Fishlegs just pulled Hiccup into an awkward hug, before letting him go, a smile wreathing his broad, bearded face. Hiccup noted the swathes of bandages under the other young man's tunic. "You got a new scar out of this caper too?" he asked wryly, and Fishlegs stammered for a moment about water impact and wind velocity in supercell thunderstorms.

"Ah, part of our story," Hensteeth said diplomatically. Toothless, sitting on the balcony, whined low in his throat in apology. "No, dragon, you saved him. No one's blaming you."

"Toothless bit Fishlegs!" Hiccup turned back to his friend in alarm, and Spitelout sighed.

"Why don't we start from the beginning?" he said wearily.

Hiccup could barely believe his ears. His friends had been through so much to find him. He was especially amazed at Astrid, who had successfully hidden the pregnancy even from Phlegma for almost four months, fighting and flying the whole time. "You're some sort of superwoman," he said shakily to her after Stoick had finished describing the shipwreck north of Neapolis.

"Don't you forget it," she said archly, her fingers intertwining with his.

Gobber took over the story when Stoick faltered while relating the revelation of Valhallarama's survival at Balbus' villa. He finished up with, "your dragon led us straight to you, an' you know what happened after that. Now, lad, why don't you tell us what you've been up to?"

Hiccup looked from face to face, finishing with Astrid. "Go on," she said gently.

He bit his lip. "You're not going to like a lot of this," he said brokenly, before squeezing Astrid's hand and taking a deep breath.

He told them all about Alvin and his false friendship. He told them about the 'merchantman's rescue' and Regin's pirates, and the slowly dawning realisation that they were sailing south, not northeast. Then Alvin's unmasking, and the revelation of his plan. Slavery, his dragon friends in the arena, Caratacus, learning Latin, meeting Nemesis. The duel, and telling her his name, and her subsequent grief and shock. The way in which she faced down the Emperor and gave him her freedom. His broken foot. Balbus and Plotina. Lysippos and Rufus. Then the cavernous chambers underground, and Rusalka… and he had to force out the details of what he had done to her, his throat tight with self-loathing. Britannicus. Alvin and Agrippina – and the promised destruction of Berk. Claudius and the palace. And finally, stumbling through the streets in a haze of misery to collapse in the forum.

"It was…" he turned his head away, unable to meet their eyes. "I thought it was all my fault. You were all going to die, and even if I got home, it wouldn't be home any more. It was _me_ who first made friends with a dragon – and because of that, you were all going to…" he squeezed his eyes shut against the hollow call of that crippling guilt, that overwhelming loss. He snapped them open to gaze pleadingly at Toothless. "I'm sorry about what I did to Rusalka, buddy, I am so, so sorry. I thought of you the whole time, and it made me sick, completely sick and miserable, but I didn't have any other choice! They'd use her to wipe out the whole world!"

Toothless dropped down from the balcony and crept over to Hiccup, head tilted. His eyes were narrowed, but he ducked his head under Hiccup's hand with a small "muuuruuum?" and Hiccup clutched at him in relief. "Please believe me, Toothless," he pleaded through clenched teeth.

Toothless whuffled and grumbled unhappily, before flicking an ear over Hiccup's face. When Hiccup jerked back with an 'ow!', the wide green eyes were staring at him with compassion.

"Thanks, Toothless," Hiccup said hoarsely, and the Night Fury curled up beside the bench, placing his broad head over Hiccup's knees. "Thanks, bud."

"Oh, son…" Stoick choked, and Hiccup swallowed his guilt to look full into his father's face.

There were tears in his beard, and he was swaying.

"Dad…?" said Hiccup incredulously, but he was suddenly crowded by his friends. Astrid was white-faced and her death grip on his hand was cutting off his circulation. Gobber was growling in outrage, his eyes stricken, gripping his bony shoulder as though proving to himself that Hiccup was real. Ruff, Tuff and Fishlegs were all piling in to hug him – and Tuff was blubbering incomprehensibly. Snotlout had toothmarks in his hand from where he'd tried to muffle his gasps. Phlegma was ranting, striding up and down the courtyard and waving her arms in livid horror. Hensteeth and Spitelout were holding Stoick up.

"What…" Hiccup blurted, overwhelmed.

"I'll kill them," Stoick was saying in a shaking voice full of fury. "I'll kill them all, they'll pay for what they've done…"

"Dad!" Hiccup lifted Toothless' head away and struggled out of the clinging arms, almost falling over as he stood and stumbled towards his father. "Dad, it's okay, I'm fine now, well, I'll _be_ fine…"

Stoick threw off Hensteeth and Spitelout and dashed forward to catch Hiccup before he fell, grabbing him and holding him tight. "Don't you _ever…._" he growled against Hiccup, but couldn't finish.

"Dad," Hiccup said again, utterly gobsmacked at his father's reaction.

"You," Stoick pulled back and shook Hiccup's shoulders a little, "are never, _never_ to do this to me again, you hear? _Never!_ I can't keep nearly losing you, Hiccup, I can't!"

Hiccup gaped at him.

"I can't…!" Stoick roared, before slumping against the limp, shocked form of his son.

"Stoick," Gobber said gently, "might want to put the lad down. He's had a rough time, after all…"

Stoick closed his eyes briefly, struggling to compose himself, before carefully helping Hiccup back to the bench, easing him down next to Astrid once more. As he straightened to move back again, Hiccup grabbed his arm.

"I promise, Dad," he said solemnly.

Stoick nodded heavily, and his hand landed on Hiccup's. "I know, son. I know."

His head aching and his heart drained, Hiccup leaned against Astrid. Her arm immediately came up to encircle him, and he could feel her fast breath against his neck. "I'm okay now," he said simply. "You're here. I'm okay."

The others had been quiet as Stoick had raged, but when Hiccup looked up at them with sincerity in his eyes, there was a palpable lessening of tension. He gave them a wobbly smile.

"Well, as okay as it's possible for me to be," he allowed, and grinned crookedly at the chorus of outraged exclamations that greeted that statement. Astrid even punched his arm, and he laughed aloud.

"So, we've got to get Mum out of the Octavian Amphitheatre and stop Alvin and Agrippina's dragons from getting to Berk before us," he said through his laughter. "Where's the Briton?"

"He stepped out," Tuffnut said, his arms folded. "'Bout an hour ago. Something about a favour owed."

"No way, genius, it was more like two hours," Ruffnut scowled at him, and he immediately shoved his chin in her face.

"It was one, dungbreath!"

"Two, idiot!"

"Troll!"

"Jerk!"

"Girl!"

"Virgin!"

"Shut! _Up!_" Tuffnut howled, and launched himself onto his sister, and they rolled kicking and scratching and biting in the loose-packed dirt.

"I take it back, I haven't missed you guys at all," said Hiccup dryly.

"It was an hour," came a voice from the entrance to the alley, and all heads turned to see Caratacus standing there with faint amusement written across his face – with Doctor Lysippos of Thessalonica. "I am afraid the young lady is not the right."

"Hah!" said Tuffnut victoriously. Ruff smashed his face into the dirt.

"Briton!" exclaimed Hiccup, trying to stand again, but Astrid pulled him down. "And... Lysippos? Does… did you go to the palace?"

"You call me Caratacus, little brother," he said with a smile, gesturing courteously to the Greek to enter. "And yes, I went to the palace and spoke only to the Emperor. He wishes to know you are well."

"Britannicus?" Hiccup leaned forward, and sucked in a breath as his side complained.

"That's… oh, of course, you're all about dragons, aren't you," Lysippos said weakly, looking warily at Toothless.

"He hurting not persons," Hiccup tried to reassure the man in his disjointed Latin, and the man visibly steeled himself and walked as though through fire toward Hiccup.

"You sound weird speaking Romanese," said Snotlout quizzically to Hiccup, who snorted.

"I sound weird to them, too," he retorted, "seeing as I can barely string two words together, and only that thanks to, uh, King Caratacus." It felt really weird to use his name. He'd always just been 'the Briton'.

"_King?"_ asked Stoick incredulously, and Hiccup turned to answer his father, only to have the inflamed skin around his side ache in protest once more.

"Sit back young man," Lysippos said sternly in Latin, pressing Hiccup's shoulders back and pulling up the loose tunic with cool, professional hands. "You gave us all a nasty shock when you disappeared like that. Now, let's have a look at this… ah, you see, it's become infected. Now, now, I understand it wasn't your idea, but you could have kept it cleaner. Who reopened it?" he looked around frowningly at the assembled Vikings.

"Father," Hiccup answered in Latin, somewhat bemused by the man's sudden take-charge attitude. "Man there, Stoick."

"That's your father?" Lysippos glanced at the bewildered-looking Stoick. "He knows his field-medicine, then. Still, good thing I brought more of that poultice. Lie back now and let's… ah, boy, no wonder the humours are out of balance. There's nothing of you, you've no reserves to burn at all. Plenty of meat for you, my dear Vulcan, and milk and eggs."

Hiccup squirmed under the doctor's scrutiny, knowing all his friends were probably counting his ribs and the vertebrae in his back. "I clothing of I _please_?" he asked a bit desperately.

"Hmm?" Lysippos smeared a paste over his ribs, before tightening the wine-and-vinegar soaked bandage once more with deft fingers. "Oh all right._ Boys_. Moan, moan, moan. Athena above."

The energetic hawk-faced man tweaked the bandage one last time, before allowing Hiccup to preserve his modesty. "Um," said Hiccup, before continuing in Norse, "er, everyone? This is Doctor Lysippos, he's the Emperor's doctor. He's a Greek."

Lysippos had obviously heard his name, because he swept his hand to one side and gave a jaunty bow. "Charmed," he said, beaming. "Never met so many barbarians at one time before. Except for all these Romans everywhere, of course."

"Doctor," Hiccup said crossly, and he laughed.

"Ah, I did like that reaction," he said, vastly amused.

"How being Britannicus?" Hiccup asked again in his halting Latin, but Lysippos had noticed Fishlegs' bandages.

"Vulcan, tell this one I can tend to him," he said impatiently, and Hiccup stifled a chuckle.

"Hey, 'Legs, the doctor says he can have a look at those cuts of yours," he said in Norse, and Fishlegs looked at the bustling little man dubiously.

"If you say so," he answered hesitantly, and in a trice Lysippos had Fishlegs propped up against the wall and his tunic pulled up over his head to cover his face. Fishlegs' cries of protest were muffled by the cloth as the doctor pulled down the bandages to squint at the healing toothmarks. Hiccup winced at the sight of them, exactly the same as those either side of his knee.

"Yes, quite the nasty bite, hmmm... these are healing well, you've kept them clean," the doctor muttered, checking the flesh for any warm spots.

"He's really… uh," Astrid trailed off as she tried to find a word to describe the energetic little man.

"Yeah, I know," Hiccup agreed, folding her hand in his.

He watched Fishlegs try to escape Lysippos several times as the others laughed, but his mind was elsewhere. Something… if he could only make sense of it. There was something he was _just_ missing. In the corner of his mind, waiting on the tip of his tongue... but it kept eluding him.

Fishlegs wriggled away from the doctor the minute Lysippos released him. Hiccup smiled at his broad, blushing face. It _had_ been pretty funny, watching the big guy zip away from the skinny little physician… oh. _Oh_.

"Oh!" he said aloud.

"What?" Astrid asked, and he turned to her again, his eyes boring into hers.

"The dragon, the Orionos… the one I made hate Romans and legionnaires…"

"Yes, what about her?" Astrid asked, confused. He grabbed her face and kissed her, hard.

"She's the answer," he breathed. "Rusalka's the answer. Rusalka's going to save us all!"


	20. Chapter 20

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Very long chapter today! Hope you all enjoy! Chocolate biscuits for all my lovely reviewers!

**clockwork mockingbird:** Oh, your review made me grin at the screen like a maniac! Thank you so very much! **The Incredible Puba:** 'Mama Bear' - I love it *g* All set up now! Thank you! **Voldyne: **Thank you for both your reviews! Yep, a true reunion now! But I'm not sure what you mean by 'paid in advance'? Who paid? **Romance and Musicals: **I agree - seeing someone so strong break down makes you feel so helpless. Here we go - Operation Nemesis! Thank you! **Leon Woon:** Oh thank you! It's such a fine line to tread: emotional scenes are always in danger of becoming so choked with description that they get bogged down. I'm so glad that their emotions came through in an affecting way! Phew! Yes, always good to know a few people in power, as we see here as well! Thank you again! **Lord Anubis judge of the dead: **Wow, thank you so much! I will definitely pass that on to psychicsaphie, she will be thrilled. I'm so glad you enjoyed them! **Cedric Bale: **I know! *g* It's all finished, you see, and I sort of mucked around with my posting schedule over the last few days thanks to an early start on Saturday. Back to normal daily transmissions from now on! **cindlemain:** Aw, thanks! (They really are too cute for words, aren't they?) I was honestly shocked myself when Stoick started shouting as I typed. But the man's almost lost his child twice, so it made perfect sense to me that he'd be like that. I do like that line too! I was also proud of Gobber's 'no, really, you're makin' my eyes hurt." Hee! **darkmaster7987: **Whoo boy, he's only just _started_ to come to terms with it! Hiccup's still in dazed shock regarding the whole baby thing. Kicking fit - IKR, so cute! (Not so cute when mum is trying to sleep though, oy!) Things are really going to get moving from here, there's lots more action to come! And have some Rusalka! Thank you so much! **story master: **There's no need for that, the apology was accepted, let's just move on. The idea was yours, why not write up the story? And did you find the 'Sign In' link? Top right-hand corner of your screen! **Ze Great Camicazi: **Thank you! Here we go! *g* **Negra: **I agree, things are beginning to look up after all that pain! Thank you so much, and here's what he planned! **childofthestorm:** Next chapter, promise! And here's a bit of Hiccup's stroke of genius - thank you so very much! **The Elven Spear:** It does, I promise! But you've got to wade through some angst first, sorreee!

* * *

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Astrid asked with concern as she watched her husband struggle to bend over and buckle his foot on.

"Just… watch me," he managed, and sat back up, his hand immediately pressing over the wound in his side. His breath was coming a little faster. "Besides, we need Britannicus. I can't remember where those underground caverns were."

"But…" Astrid began, but he gingerly stood and walked over to her, brushing back her fringe.

"Astrid, I'm okay. Really." He smiled his crooked smile, and her heart did its normal squeeze. "Better than I've been in months."

"That's _exactly_ why I'm _worried_," she growled, and prodded his stick-thin arms. "Look at you!"

His smile grew wider, and he glanced down. "Nah. Much more fun looking at you." His hands snaked around her waist, smoothed over her smock, and settled over the Tiny Haddock.

She huffed. "Don't change the subject."

He chuckled, brushing back her hair again. "Lysippos is telling the Emperor to meet us in the courtyard. Caratacus is back at Plotina's talking to Rufus about Rusalka's bridle. No one else speaks Latin, not even 'hello'. Besides, how else are we going to make it into the palace without getting run through by the Praetorian guards?"

"Hiccup," she said hotly, but he shook his head firmly.

"We all sat and discussed this yesterday, Astrid. It's the best way. Besides, I'm not letting any of you down ever again. Ever again."

She opened her mouth to object once more, but he took advantage of the moment and kissed her. He was doing that a lot to deflect her from examining both his physical recovery and his mental state. To her annoyance, it was working.

"Hiccup, you need to talk to me about it _sometime_," she said in exasperation the minute he broke the kiss, and his eyes dropped once more. His hands stroked her belly gently and worshipfully as he stood silent for a long moment.

He eventually nodded reluctantly. "I know. But we don't have the time now. We have to get moving. Astrid I promise… I'll talk to you, I really will. Later."

She sighed, and laid a hand over his. "You'd better."

"I will," he said seriously and kissed her once more. "We'd better go."

She helped him down the stairs again. He was stronger after a second night's sleep and medical care, but he was still very weak and thin. He hadn't been able to finish the light morning meal; his stomach was still too deprived to take in much food. The colour in his cheeks was better however, and he was able to brace himself against her and the wall. He was far steadier on his feet too – and Astrid wondered how much of that was his physical resilience and how much of it was his uncanny ability to focus on the matter at hand.

Toothless was waiting grumpily in the courtyard with the rest of their party, and that was where he had to stay for the morning. Caratacus had provided him with fish, but it hadn't improved his surly mood for the better. He wasn't best pleased with the idea of letting Hiccup out of his sight so soon after his rescue, and Astrid couldn't blame him.

Hiccup immediately went to his friend's side and began to rub his eye-ridges and ears, talking quietly to him the whole time. Astrid made her way to Stoick, who looked grim and shaken in the morning light, though his eyes warmed as she put a hand on his upper arm in greeting.

It was amazing, what he had been through. His son stolen, learning what said son had lived through, the miraculous survival of his long-dead wife, the resurrection of emotions buried for fifteen years. He was bearing up better than she would have expected, in retrospect.

Finally Hiccup stood with a final pat to Toothless' head. "…and keep your ears open, bud. I mean it, I'll call. You've got your gear on, so just run as fast as you can for me. It won't be long."

Toothless whined deep in his throat and nosed Hiccup's hand, but stayed where he was beside the water trough. Their horses shifted nervously, but they'd mostly become used to the dragon over their trip from Neapolis.

"Are you gonna be able to walk all the way there?" Ruffnut asked dubiously as Hiccup joined them. He shrugged one shoulder, his fist knocking against his thigh in an awkward tattoo.

"Err, well, yeah, I'm guessing so," he mused, "well, I made it from the palace to the forum two days ago, and I was in way worse shape, so…"

"Dude, you were a _mess_," Snotlout said emphatically.

"Thank you so much for that confidence boost," Hiccup deadpanned. "Shall we go?"

Hiccup had to get his bearings once they were out in the streets, but to his own surprise he was able to navigate fairly well. Stoick was able to remember the way back to the crowded Forum Romanum, nestled in the valley between the Capitoline and the Palatine Hills.

From there, it was easy. The palace stood out like a sore thumb atop the Palatine Hill, only a stone's throw away. Hiccup recognised the slight slope between the Circus Maximus with its chariot-wheel scarred track and the vast, colonnaded bulk of the palace. He jerked his head to the group following him, and they slipped between the columns leading from the Forum into the twisting alleys surrounding it. There was a crumbling gap between two buildings, easily overlooked, but Hiccup clearly remembered Britannicus telling him to watch his head. He ushered everyone through (Hensteeth had a _very_ tight squeeze) before crawling through himself to reencounter the bushes he had crashed through on his flight from his guilt that awful night.

"This way," he said quietly, and led them up the grassy slope to the gap behind the fig trees. "It's through here."

"And you say the Roman Emperor's going to be through there?" asked Phlegma dubiously.

"I could save the world a whole lot of trouble," Spitelout grunted, his axe smacking his palm meaningfully. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"Don't be stupid," he snapped, so unlike his normal manner that Astrid could see the others wondering how much his experiences had altered him in other, unseen ways. "If you kill him, you'd be dead before you can blink. The Praetorian guards are fanatically loyal to Claudius, I know that much from the arena. Besides, if you get rid of him, it'd be chaos," he shuddered. "Britannicus'd be killed, and it'd be Agrippina calling the shots, with Nero as her figurehead. It's lunacy."

"You seem to know a lot about it," noted Gobber.

Hiccup turned back from where he'd begun to clamber through into the courtyard. "I've had to," he said bluntly, and pulled himself through.

Astrid raised her eyebrow at them. "Anyone feel like arguing with him?"

"I think we're convinced, lass," said Gobber, looking sidelong at the affronted Spitelout. "You go on ahead."

Astrid covered her smirk with a cough and followed Hiccup through the hole in the wall.

Hiccup was kneeling in the courtyard, talking to a small boy with curly blond hair wearing a white tunic (_'and no leggings, outrageous!_' her mother's voice gasped in her mind) in that lilting language again. The boy looked up as she entered, and he looked back at Hiccup, an unrecognisable phrase that was obviously a question falling from his lips.

Hiccup smiled and said a few words back, and the boy blinked, before he looked back at Astrid. She waved hesitantly. "Er… hello?"

What was the etiquette for meeting the heir-apparent to a large, domineering, hostile empire? She had no idea.

Apparently the boy didn't either, because he just looked back at Hiccup, who rubbed his forehead.

"Come on, work with me here, you two," he murmured as he stood shakily and took her hand, offering it to the boy. "Astrid; Britannicus. Britannicus; Astrid."

Astrid ignored Hiccup's murmur loftily. "Hello, Britannicus," she said, shaking the boy's hand. He looked down at it curiously, before nodding his head over their clasped hands.

"Ave, Astreed," he said, and peered up at her curiously. Then his eyes darted to the gap in the wall as he noticed Stoick, Gobber and the others helping each other through.

Hiccup said something to him in his own tongue, his hands held up and his tone conciliatory. The boy looked quite alarmed at the size of the men invading the Imperial Palace, but stood his ground gravely and gave them all a dignified nod. "Ave," he said in his piping voice.

"What's an Ah-Vay?" asked Tuffnut, and Hiccup grinned.

"Means 'hello'." He waved at the boy, who looked up at him with a glint of hero-worship in his eyes. "Everyone, meet the Emperor's son, Britannicus."

"And that pipsqueak's gonna lead us to that monster dragon?" asked Snotlout sceptically, and Hiccup sighed.

"Yes, 'Lout, he is." He babbled an aside to Britannicus, and the boy ducked his head, giggling.

"Hey, no insulting people in other languages," Snotlout protested, thrusting his chin out pugnaciously.

Britannicus tugged at Hiccup's too-loose tunic, speaking rapidly with a crease of concern lining his small forehead. He tilted his head down at the boy, concentrating. Suddenly his face grew soft, and he knelt awkwardly to hug the boy, murmuring reassuringly.

Astrid felt her insides _melt_.

Stupid, stupid hormones.

A cleared throat made the two pull apart, though Britannicus' face was still suffused with concern. Every head in the leafy courtyard turned to see an older man of middle height standing at the entrance, his eyes amused. Hiccup stood abruptly, his back stiffening as the boy ran to the man and tugged at his hand.

"Guys?" he said in a slightly strangled tone. "Meet Emperor Claudius of the Roman Empire."

Astrid felt her mouth open slightly. _This_ was an Emperor? He was just an old man, limping slightly towards them, a tremor in his hands, dragged by a small boy. Then she met his eyes and saw a wealth of pain and loneliness, and she believed it.

No normal man could ever be that lonely.

She dipped her head respectfully, but she'd be cold in Helheim before she bent her knee to any foreign ruler. It seemed the others had similar ideas, and not a Viking in the room did more than nod. Hiccup regarded their reactions with a small twist of his lips.

"Yeah, I've never bowed to him either," he said with a shrug, before turning to the man and raising a hand in salute. This made the Emperor smile as if remembering something, and he nodded before Hiccup laughed and began talking some more.

As Hiccup talked to the most powerful man in the world, Astrid found herself studying the nine-year-old Britannicus. From what Hiccup had told them, he'd had a tumultuous life, and she felt quite sorry for him. Britannicus himself, though, had been concerned about Hiccup. _Very_ concerned if that hug was any indication. She shivered. Considering the state they'd found Hiccup in, it was no wonder the boy was relieved and still a little worried. She knew how he felt.

Only a bit more so.

All right, a lot.

Claudius seemed surprised to see Hiccup cleaned, shaved and lucid, even though both Caratacus and his doctor must have told him what had happened. He appeared to be questioning Hiccup closely, and the answers obviously didn't please him as he began to scowl.

"What's goin' on?" Gobber asked, bewildered.

"Search me," Astrid muttered back.

"Sounds like bird noises," rumbled Hensteeth, his face perplexed.

"Oh, sorry guys," Hiccup said, breaking off the stream of Latin abruptly with an apologetic look to Claudius. He seemed about to get angry about it, but then appeared to think again and simply sighed, his eyes turning heavenwards.

"Okay, the Emperor is a bit concerned about the Orionos," Hiccup said quickly. "He's not really the biggest fan of _us_ having her either, so we need to arrange a compromise. I think we should set her free, but he thinks now that she's tamed someone's likely to recapture her."

"After what you did, it's not likely to be a Roman," snorted Spitelout, and Hiccup winced.

"Yeah, I said that, but the Emperor doesn't want _anyone_ to have her, and there's no way I'm just gonna kill her. He says that is the only reservation he has to the plan, because he trusts me not to harm his citizens." Hiccup looked a bit dubious at that, biting his lip. "I don't know if Rusalka's going to be able to help it, after all that conditioning. Dad, maybe I should introduce you? You could take over the negotiations…"

Stoick held up a hand. "No son," he said adamantly. "You're doin' fine."

"I… I am?" he gaped.

"Besides, you think I suddenly speak that lingo?" he added, and Hiccup rubbed the back of his head.

"O… okay. Wow. All right…"

"Good practice for when you're Chief," Stoick nodded and crossed his arms, leaning against the colourfully tiled walls. "Go on then."

Hiccup seemed to realise that he was gawking in front of an Emperor, who was regarding him quizzically. He turned to the man and said a few of those polysyllabic nonsense words at him in a stunned tone, and the man blinked before throwing his head back and laughing uproariously, his words stuttering through his laughter.

"Uh, was it a good joke?" asked Ruffnut in a tentative drawl.

"He says you are a very tough teacher," Hiccup said, blushing a bit, "if your idea of practice for leading is making deals with the Roman Emperor."

Stoick shrugged. Gobber nudged him. "You've always been a bit 'sink or swim' in your methods, haven't you?" he said slyly.

"Oh, and can we please lay off talking about me as the next Chief?" Hiccup whined, and Astrid chuckled. He was never likely to come to terms with that.

"Start talkin' in that gabble about dragons," said Stoick shortly, and Hiccup gave his father a small smile. Stoick didn't smile back, but his face lost much of its tension as he returned his son's gaze.

Claudius had watched the exchange closely and now said something sharply to Hiccup, who sighed and replied in a low tone. Then Claudius looked over at Stoick, and he asked a question.

Hiccup answered haltingly, "Nemesis. Valhallarama. Mater."

Stoick's eyes immediately filled, and he ducked his head, pulling off his helmet roughly to cover his sudden rush of emotion. Hiccup made to go over to his father, but the Emperor began speaking quickly and tersely with Britannicus chiming in with small exclamations and sentences.

"They say…" Hiccup frowned as he tried to concentrate, and his face quickly became pale and frightened, "they say they were informed this morning that Mum tried to escape the barracks… over the uh, roofs, I think. She's been sentenced for thief… for thievery. She's a belong – I mean, property. She's property. She's to be put in with the Noxii (1) at the games today."

"And what does that mean?" asked Phlegma.

"It means we have to hurry," said Hiccup grimly, before whirling back to Claudius and talking in a quiet, tense tone. Astrid recognised his 'something crazy' voice, and automatically felt her back stiffen in readiness.

"Uh-oh," said Ruffnut under her breath.

The Emperor pinched his nose between his fingers as Hiccup finished with his skinny chest heaving. He gnawed for a moment at his lower lip, thinking. Britannicus pulled at his father's toga several times, and the man looked down in surprise to see his son's wide, pleading eyes staring back up at him. He finally made a noise of irritated concession, and nodded exasperatedly.

Britannicus sprang to his feet and hugged his father around the legs as Hiccup rocked back in relief.

"I take it we got what we wanted?" Gobber's eyebrows rose as Hiccup, sagging with gratitude and weariness turned back to them.

"We're letting Rusalka go after we've done what we have to do," Hiccup said firmly. "But we can't release her in the Mare Internum, the Emperor feels there's too much risk that an unfriendly nation will end up using her. And we can't let anyone else know about Agrippina's involvement. It'll destroy the confidence of the population in their Emperor."

The assembled Vikings all turned to each other and shrugged. "Fine," agreed Stoick.

"The Emperor is going to order all ships to remain in harbour, and he'll countermand any order to send his legions north," Hiccup continued, "so it's only Alvin's dragons we're going to have to worry about. He doesn't know who's riding them, but he can make sure it's not legionnaires."

Hiccup squinted at the morning sun. "We've got maybe two hours before the memorial games begin," he said absently. "Noxii are always up first. We don't have much time."

"Then we'd better not waste any more of it," Astrid said, her voice edged in diamond.

* * *

Britannicus led the way, chatting non-stop to Hiccup the whole time. He never faltered, his small legs walking purposefully and unhesitatingly through the streets. Astrid followed, her eyes on Hiccup's back.

He was tired, she could tell, so she wormed under his arm and looked at him sternly. He gave her a sheepish grin, and his weight leaned down on her. She repressed her own smile.

Britannicus led them down a narrow set of stairs, and then into a series of tunnels. Walking through the gloom, he pointed out a tiny window at knee-height in the rough wall, and Hiccup nodded, eyes narrowing in recognition. They finally stopped before a large door, bound and locked.

"Great," Hiccup muttered.

"Out of the way," grunted Spitelout, and he and Hensteeth lumbered to the door and their axes came down in a shower of sparks. Britannicus shielded his head, and Hiccup automatically pushed the boy behind him. It took several blows, but the lock eventually fell to the floor. Spitelout ran his thumb over the new nicks in his axe-blade. "That's goin' to take forever to polish out," he grumbled.

"I'll put it to the stone the minute we get home. Call it a thank you," Hiccup said absently as Phlegma and Stoick pulled the chain away and lifted the wooden beam from the housings.

Spitelout looked pleased before he remembered himself and schooled his features in his usual surly expression.

Hiccup tipped his head thoughfully. "Can someone go up to the Forum again and meet Caratacus? He should be back from Rufus' by now…"

Snotlout exchanged glances with his father, who jerked his head. "Fine," he sighed gustily, and began to swagger back down the tunnel.

"Be careful, 'Lout," Hiccup called after him.

"Who, me?" Snotlout called back. "Cuz, it's the _rest_ of the world that should be worried."

Hiccup chuckled a little, before turning to the open door. "Right," he breathed, "right then." And he pushed it open.

Astrid sucked her breath in as they entered the chamber. Hiccup hadn't exaggerated. It was indeed cavernous, cold and echoing and dismal. She could see a bundle of rags in one corner, and a small, pitiful collection of tools in another. The Vikings slowed as they took in the bareness and the damp chill in the air. Astrid picked up a scrap of paper from the ground, Hiccup's distinctive scrawl all over it.

Hiccup shivered as his eyes landed on the pile of rags. Astrid immediately went to him and pulled him into a tight hug. He ducked his face into her neck for a moment, and she tightened her arms further. She couldn't imagine three weeks in this hole, wounded and sick with little food and less sleep and this insidious chill seeping into the bones…

He let out a shaky breath and pulled back to look at her face. "I'll talk about it," he said quietly, "I promised. Just…"

She nodded, her hand smoothing over his stubbled cheek. "Not now, I know. Later."

Britannicus was watching them curiously, and Astrid felt the tips of her ears burn as she dropped her hand and cleared her throat. Hiccup looked bemused, before catching the boy's inquisitive stare.

Hiccup slowly began to turn a rather fetching shade of puce; nevertheless he winked roguishly at the boy and kissed Astrid softly, before taking her hand and pulling her over to a barrel. The boy snorted and said something in that language, and Hiccup rolled his eyes, even as he flushed yet again.

"What did he say?" Astrid asked enquiringly, and Hiccup glanced at her, and then his eyes dropped to her belly.

He coughed. "Er… that it's not hard to see how you, uh, got…"

"Oh," she said, and scowled darkly at the boy, who grinned merrily back.

Hiccup shoved both hands into the barrel and emerged with a double handful of crushed charcoal. "We need this," he said distractedly, plopping one handful in Astrid's hands and beginning to smear himself with the other. Astrid suddenly saw the origin of the filth he had been covered in upon his recovery. "Everyone, grab some charcoal. There's not much left, this is all we've got."

"What about your mother?" Stoick demanded as he rubbed charcoal over his brawny forearms, and Hiccup bit his lip, thinking.

"Yeah," he mused, "Tuff, can you get me one of those rags in the pile? Any one, not too small…"

Tuffnut looked up from painting stripes on his face in the black, pungent dust. "Huh? Oh…"

While Tuff grabbed a cloth, Hiccup grabbed another handful and instructed Tuff to hold the cloth out flat. He put the charcoal in the middle, and tied a knot in the makeshift sack. "That'll do," he said dismissively, and began to walk over to the large door at the other end of the chamber.

When they reached it, he turned and addressed them all seriously. "Okay guys, we need to be really gentle. Rusalka's actually pretty timid, and she scares easily. Don't be put off by her size. I think coming in one by one is a good idea, we shouldn't overload her all at once. Leave a couple of minutes before the next comes in. We clear?"

Ruffnut drawled, "yes Chief."

Hiccup blinked, and several people stifled their laughs at the expression of dismay that flitted over his face. Britannicus said something, and yanked at Hiccup's hand, and Hiccup nodded to him before looking back to Ruffnut.

"You are made of pure concentrated evil," he said testily. "I just want you to know that."

Ruff smiled. "I know. It's _such_ fun."

He gave her a mock-scowl before turning and, together with the young Roman, walked through into the other chamber.

A deep, echoing moan reverberated through the caverns, and Astrid felt her heartrate speed up. Surely that had made the very floor tremble.

"Thor's hammer, how big _is_ that thing?" said Phlegma in a hushed voice.

"Considering the length of the echo, and the tremors in the," Fishlegs swallowed, "ground, uh… very."

"He said it was as big as the Queen," said Gobber tensely, and Astrid hmm'd.

"Well," she said, raising her charcoal-covered face. "I'm going in."

"Maybe I should go first?" offered Ruffnut, to be pushed roughly by Tuff.

"No way! I'm going in before you!" he challenged, and Astrid raised her eyes to the pitted ceiling.

Leaving them to bicker, she stepped through into the other room, and immediately rocked back in shock.

The dragon was _gargantuan_. Hiccup and Britannicus looked like mice as they scratched and soothed her head. She was trapped in a horrible-looking device around her head, her mountainous frame pinned to the floor with huge ropes. Her deep black eyes were easily the size of a warshield each. Her streamlined body was a midnight blue, and two upright fins ran the length of her canine-like head down her back to her tail.

Hiccup glanced up to see her standing there in awe, and gestured for her to approach. She walked on shaky legs towards the mammoth animal, marvelling that Hiccup had been able to train her at all. The sheer size of the animal took her breath away.

The dragon, Rusalka – and how bizarre to name her a water nymph? – rumbled uncertainly as she neared, and she slowed. Hiccup rubbed the giant snout and beckoned Astrid again. She hesitantly made her way beside him, and he took her arm and held it up for the dragon to smell.

"She's a bit nervous, and I think they've left her alone down here for the last two days," he explained in a low tone. "But she's going to be okay."

Astrid let her hand rest on the warm scales, looking up at where a huge black eye was regarding her warily. She smiled, and began to scratch at Rusalka's cheek. The eye lidded in bliss.

"Good job," Hiccup said in her ear. His breath tickled. She elbowed him half-heartedly, and he chuckled, kissing her head before making his way to a winch system that seemed to control the huge vice around her jaws.

Stoick entered at that point, his eyes wide with astonishment at Rusalka. He visibly straightened himself, making his way over to the Orionos, his face pale and astounded. "That's one big dragon," he breathed.

Britannicus grabbed Stoick's hand, babbling cheerfully, and pushed it up against Rusalka's face. He pointed up as he talked earnestly, and Stoick looked over at Astrid in confusion.

"What do you think he wants me to do?" he hissed.

"He wants you to scratch her fins, he's not tall enough," Hiccup called from where he was struggling with the wheel. Stoick blinked, and then shrugged. He started to scratch at the dragon's fins in earnest, and Rusalka rumbled and purred like an earthquake as the vice began to slowly raise from her mouth.

"Might want to watch it, she's got one doozy of a smile," Hiccup said warningly, and Astrid jumped back to see the dragon's mouth open slightly, her lips peeling back. Rows upon rows of gigantic teeth met her gaze, and she shuddered.

"No kidding," she agreed as Gobber joined them, his blocky face slack with disbelief.

"You okay?" Astrid asked.

"That thing's as big as Berk," he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Hiccup came back around from the winch. "Want to help untie her?"

Gobber raised an incredulous eyebrow at his apprentice, who looked drained but calm. Finally he shrugged. "What the Hel."

Hiccup began to cut through the ship's ropes tying Rusalka to the floor, but stopped as Britannicus tugged his tunic, saying something in his piping voice. Hiccup's brow creased in concentration, and then his face fell. He gathered the boy into his arms and hugged him once more, and Britannicus threw his arms around his skinny neck in return.

Astrid paused in scratching Rusalka's cheek to watch them for a moment. Hiccup slowly broke the embrace and stood, his hand tousling the boy's curly blond hair. He said something in a low voice, and Britannicus gave one short nod.

As Ruffnut entered, her eyes wide, Hiccup sighed and looked around at the slowly filling chamber. "Everyone, Britannicus has to get to the Amphitheatre," he said heavily. "It's not far by foot, he'll make it there in ten minutes. We should thank him before he leaves."

Gobber scratched at his chin. "Don't have much to offer him," he said dubiously.

Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck, thinking hard. "I don't know..."

"Here," Astrid said firmly, striding over to Hiccup and opening the grubby little pouch at his neck that she had made over six months ago. She drew out the two scales tied together with red thread, and knelt before the boy, offering them. Hiccup looked a little shellshocked, but began to speak to the boy in Latin, presumably to tell him the significance of the scales. Britannicus looked puzzled as he took them but his face abruptly cleared as Hiccup spoke. He threw an arm around Astrid's neck and the other around Hiccup's waist and hugged them tightly, before tucking the scales into his tunic and haring off.

He paused at the chamber door (almost knocking over Phlegma, who was entering), and grinned back at Hiccup as he said something that made his ears turn bright red. Then he was gone, a pale little figure disappearing into the darkness.

"What... did he say?" Astrid had to ask. His boyish enthusiasm was both charming and bewildering.

"Uh... not to worry about the arena dragons..." Hiccup mumbled as he helped her up, "He's going to help them, I'll be too busy. Um. B-being a father..."

"Oh," Astrid felt her own cheeks heat, before she snapped her head up to his. "Yes, you are," she said definitely.

It wasn't long before the whole group were either clustered around the dragon's head, scratching diligently, or helping untie her. Rusalka seemed overwhelmed with delight, crooning and purring in joy at so many charcoal-humans. Hiccup and Gobber began testing the strength of the harness that still sat around her shoulders. Gobber looked both disgusted and impressed; disgusted that all Hiccup had been able to work with was rope, and impressed for the same reason.

"Not a bad job, Hiccup," he said grudgingly. "This stuff's rubbish, but it'll hold."

"I didn't exactly get a chance to complain to my resource department," Hiccup said dryly, sitting behind the Orionos' head and stroking her fin. "What time do you make it?"

Stoick pursed his lips. "Haven't the faintest, but I'll wager it's not long. What did you say these Noxy-eye lot have to do?"

Hiccup cringed, his eyes sliding away from his father. "Uh, I didn't. But sometimes they blindfold them and make them fight, and other times they chain them together and let animals just…"

Stoick's face went flat and cold. "I see," he growled.

"'Lout should be here soon," Hiccup ducked his head and began to adjust the ropes. "Then we can get going."

"Did I hear someone begging for me? I totally knew it was only a matter of time," Snotlout's voice wafted from the other chamber, and he appeared in the doorway with Caratacus in tow. "Whoa. That's a whole lotta dragon."

"Go rub yourself down with charcoal," Hiccup ordered as Rusalka's head lifted a little, and Snotlout 'eeep'ed and scooted back into the other chamber. The Briton sighed, and met Hiccup's eyes for a moment of mutual understanding, before trudging after the young man. Hiccup snickered. Snotlout obviously irritated the dignified ex-king. Caratacus had very little time for boasting.

"Okay," Hiccup continued as everyone assembled before him. He had that glint in his eye again. Astrid felt ice run down her spine. It was so easy to forget that her husband with his silly grin and his sarcastic turn of phrase could become _this_ person – this person made of determination, will and steel. "Everyone aboard. Whatever you do, don't look up until we're in the air. I mean it, don't raise your head for anything. Rusalka knows how I'm going to steer her, but we've never practiced in the air, so hold on tight. Caratacus?" he called, and the Briton re-entered, covered in charcoal and holding a contraption of long loops of leather and metal. "Did Rufus have any trouble?"

"He says you do good design paper," he said in his deep, calm voice, reaching up over the huge dragon's head to hand the thing to Hiccup. The young man tested it between his hands, before nodding in satisfaction.

"And he does good work," he said in satisfaction. "Shh, Rusalka," he added softly, as she shied a little from the Briton's proximity and twitched at the sensation of so many feet upon her back as the Vikings crawled up towards the saddle. "It's okay, girl, it's okay."

"Wait up!" Snotlout skidded into the room, his face a dirty mask. He froze as the dragon grunted, and began to tiptoe. Rusalka settled and her wings tightened against her sides as Hiccup scratched her for a moment, before lifting the new leather section of the bridle and crawling forward along the bridge of her nose.

"Okay, sweetheart," he muttered, the words clearly audible in the huge, echoing room, "I need you to lift your chin, just a bit."

The dragon gave a deep whine like whalesong, and Hiccup was lifted several feet as the gigantic head rose slowly. Astrid felt her heart stutter in its galloping rhythm. Hiccup took a deep breath, and threw the longest leather loop over her nose, pulling it back against her throat. He tugged at it dubiously. "Are you all right, Rusalka?"

Her purr doubled in volume. He blew out a breath. "I still think there's a better way, you know," he said reprovingly, and she gave a huff that nearly threw him from the top of her head. He clutched on tightly, before making a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "Don't _do_ that! You almost turned me into paste!"

Rusalka moaned in apology and remained very still as Hiccup inched back to the first 'saddle' behind her head. Once roped in, he looped the long leather straps of the new bridle through guides woven into the rope saddle's front section, and pulled gently on the left one.

Her massive head turned left. Hiccup laughed weakly in relief, and turned back to where Astrid had planted herself behind him, her jaw tight from watching him casually risk his life _again_. "I think this'll work," he said.

She punched his arm. "Don't you _dare_ do that in front of me ever again," she said dangerously. "You could have fallen. You could have _died_."

He looked poleaxed. "Astrid, I…

"No," she fumed. "No excuses. No risking your life. No."

He remained silent for a moment, before grabbing her hand and smoothing his thumb over her knuckles. "I think you might have to talk about a few things too," he said gently.

She maintained her glare for a whole five seconds before she felt her lip trembling. "I know," she said shortly, willing her emotions back under her control.

He smiled a bit sadly back at her, before checking the reins again and closing his eyes. "Oh boy," he said under his breath. "Everyone okay back there?"

A chorus of affirmatives floated back to him. Rusalka rumbled in readiness.

"Good luck," Caratacus said seriously. "Hiccup my brother. Dagda be with you all your days."

Hiccup leaned down and clasped his hand. "Odin protect you, King Caratacus," he said just as seriously. Then he grinned impishly. "I always wanted a big brother."

The big Briton held onto Hiccup's hand a moment more as they memorised each other, before letting it go and moving back to the door. He held his hands over his chest, and bowed his head in a graceful gesture. Hiccup raised his hand in a farewell salute, before mimicking the movement.

Then he took the reins, leaned over and said, "Let's get out of here, Rusalka!"

The massive dragon slowly unfolded her wings and her legs, stiff and unmoving for more than three weeks, began to straighten. Astrid held on as tightly as she could, watching the floor and the Briton drop away beneath them. Rusalka tipped back her head, and the rumble of vast amounts of flammable gas churned beneath her legs as it pumped into the dragon's mouth.

"Now!" Hiccup barked, and the Orionos spewed forth a billow of flame into the roof of the chamber. The massive wooden beams supporting the vaulted roof began to char, then crackle, then crumble to pieces.

"Heads _down!_" Hiccup shouted again, and Astrid pressed her face against his back as the sound of falling rock began to crunch and shatter around them, hissing with heat.

The sensation of movement and the roaring of displaced wind under giant wings rattled her mind, and she clung to Hiccup, wrapping her arms around his waist as tightly as she dared. Behind her she could vaguely hear Fishlegs' cry of "this – is - _awesome!_"

There was the vague sensation too, of a pair of arms clutching her around the waist. She hadn't noticed who it was, and wasn't particularly focused on it. What with the crackle of burning wooden beams and the thud of falling rock and the roar of the dragon's flame, she couldn't concentrate on anything else. Her skin was drenched in sweat as she briefly pondered if they were all clinging to each other, a deadly dance line. She was rocked forward abruptly as an impact hit the dragon, and she heard Hiccup's voice yelling, "steady! Steady!"

The feeling of elevation began to grow steadily stronger, and the rush of the air from under Rusalka's downbeating wings was joined by a breeze across her face.

"Okay, you can look up now!" Hiccup shouted, and she cracked open an eye to see a huge smoking hole in the ground, surrounded by panicked people. She carefully straightened and released her death-grip on Hiccup as they rose ponderously above the city into the honey-tinted sunlight, and he glanced back at her again, grinning with pure joy.

She could see why. It had been almost five months since Hiccup had flown on a dragon, and Rusalka was just as rapturous as he to be in the air once more, her subsonic purr rumbling through her legs and her calls of ecstasy booming through the morning air.

The hands around her waist jerked then, as though realising their exact position. Astrid turned as they slunk around behind her to be confronted with Tuffnut blushing scarlet. "Uh, sorry…" he mumbled. "I didn't mean to, uh..."

She raised her eyebrow at him.

"Hey, your baby kicks real hard," he offered, and she couldn't help but shake her head.

"Thanks, Tuff," she said, fighting down an undignified giggle. "Hang on to my shoulders if the nasty baby keeps picking on you like that."

"Hey, that's not what…" Tuff began, but he trailed off into a whoop of alarm as Rusalka banked, her massive wings locking. "Warn a guy!" he yelped at Hiccup, his arms clinging around Astrid's neck.

"Tuff!" she choked, and he released his stranglehold reluctantly, though he kept his hands on her shoulders.

"Sorry, guys!" Hiccup looked back with a cringing smile, his hand firmly pulling upon the left rein. "Gotta turn here – and there, see it? That's the Octavian Amphitheatre!"

Astrid peered down at the tiny buildings far below, her arms snaking around Hiccup once more. He glanced back and down at her, and gave her the special smile, the closed-mouth one that was just for her. "Bit of a different view to our normal one," he murmured to her.

"It's still flying with you," she said softly.

He straightened, his eyes hardening again. "It's about to be landing with me," he said warningly. "I'll need you on Toothless, so get ready to get off."

She nodded. "Don't…" she blurted, and then ducked her head.

He found her hand with his free one, and squeezed it reassuringly. "I'm not gonna do anything to risk my life," he said firmly. "Astrid. Listen. How could I?"

She bit her lip, and kissed his cheek. "Good. And I'll try to stop being so…"

"Nah, I like you overprotective," he said playfully. "More good practise."

"Idiot," she said fondly, and her hand found its way into his hair, blown back in the wind.

"Your idiot," he corrected, and then released her hand. "Ready?"

"Go on then, hero," she said amused, and he swallowed hard, his eyes dark for a moment as they searched the ground far below, before he raised his voice. "They're bringing out the condemned! Okay, we're about to dive! Everyone hold on!"

"We _are_!" she heard Ruffnut screech, before Hiccup leaned forward and the Orionos' head dipped, her wings tilting them into a steep descent straight for the arena. The wind screamed in Astrid's ears and she had to squint to stop her eyes drying as the bright oval of sand grew closer, closer…

"TOOTHLESS!" Hiccup roared in a voice she hadn't known he possessed. It wasn't a boy's yell or young man's shout, or even a man's bellow, but a true full-throated roar. It carried over the tearing sound of Rusalka's frantic flapping as she landed stiffly in the centre of the Amphitheatre, even over the noise of the screaming crowd as they scrambled and scrabbled over each other to get through the exits.

She untied herself and made to climb down Rusalka's steep side, her heart hammering and feeling the stares of those audience members too stunned to move burning through her back. Hiccup grabbed her hand again, tugging her up for a kiss. "For luck," he panted.

She grabbed his head and kissed him again. "For everything else," she said against his lips, feeling them curve into a slight, tense smile. She released him abruptly, feeling unconscionably angry and torn at having to leave him.

The prisoners who had been about to fight to the death had all huddled in their chains in the narrow end of the oval furthest from the Imperial Box. They were all blindfolded as well as chained, and most held a dagger or a gladius in fumbling hands. Their faces were white and stained with tears beneath their blindfolds – all except one, a tall woman with white streaks in her hair.

Astrid ran forward, her eyes stinging in the harsh light reflected from the sand. "Valhallarama of Berk!" she shouted. "Valhallarama of Berk!"

The woman's blindfolded face lifted, and she straightened unconsciously. "I was known by that name, yes," she said quietly as Astrid began to run faster to her. "What is this?"

"Mum, it's me!" Hiccup yelled as Rusalka roared at the profusion of togas before her, her massive claws raking the sand. "I've come to rescue you!"

"Hiccup!" she gasped, and she walked forward a couple of paces, her head questing blindly.

"_Val!_" Stoick half-bellowed in a cracking voice. "Val, it's us, we're here…"

The woman's mouth dropped open as Astrid reached her. "It's… he _can't_…" she choked, and Astrid glanced back to see Stoick making to clamber from Rusalka's back.

"Stay there!" Astrid yelled commandingly. "We wait for Toothless! We've got to get out of here before…"

Before she could finish the sentence, the gates began to creak open, and jangling leigonnaires began to march into the arena in perfect unison. Rusalka screamed in fear and fury. Astrid's heart clenched as she pulled off Valhallarama's blindfold and began to chop furiously with her axe at the chain that linked her newfound mother-in-law to another prisoner. With the legions here…

The woman blinked in the sudden sunlight, and her face grew impossibly pale at the sight she beheld. Astrid stopped in her efforts to sever the chains in order to hold out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Astrid," she said, panting. "I married Hiccup. Yes, I'm pregnant. Yes, that's Stoick on the great big dragon. There's another one on its way to get both you and I out of here before we're Roman target practise. And it'd be a big help if you could hold this chain tight so I can get through it."

Valhallarama's shocked eyes darted back to Astrid, and she took her hand. "Nice to meet you," she said weakly.

Then her green eyes hardened, and she leaned back against the chain. Astrid's efforts had weakened it, but the strength the woman exhibited as she snapped them was prodigious. Astrid was impressed.

"How on earth did you and Stoick produce a fishbone like Hiccup?" she asked rhetorically.

"From the look of you, I think you have your answer," said Valhallarama breathlessly as she kicked off her chains, and both women laughed as Hiccup moaned in cringing embarrassment.

"Hiccup, keep your dad on that dragon!" Astrid yelled. "Toothless can't carry three for long, and he can't be trapped here!"

Hiccup turned back to his practically-vibrating father and began to talk in a low, rapid voice, even as Rusalka bellowed and shrieked in fright at the sea of legionnaires that were encircling her. Hiccup's voice rose in an ultimatum, and Stoick snarled back, but Hiccup had obviously won as the Chief stayed put on Rusalka's back.

The legionnaires were coming towards the two women, their short swords low and their eyes wary. They obviously didn't think much of Astrid, but they were very familiar with Nemesis the Gladiatrix and weren't taking any chances.

"You didn't bring another axe by any chance, did you?" Val asked under her breath.

"Sorry," Astrid muttered back. "And I lost my dirk in a pirate fight."

Val's eyebrows rose slightly. "I see. Stoick, my love?" she called.

"Val!" Stoick craned forward on the Orionos' back, his heart in his voice.

"Throw me your axe!"

"Got it," he replied, an expression of joy spreading over his face. "Oh _Gods_, Val, my Val, I have missed you so much, you mad woman!"

"And I'll show you how much I've missed you, but for the moment, throw it, you daft bugger! Got some business to take care of!"

Stoick pulled his axe from his belt and threw it in a huge overarm arc. Val snatched it out of the air and twirled it experimentally. "A new one, very nice!" she smiled up at her husband, her cheeks wet.

"Our son made it," he said, smiling back with glistening eyes. "Go show 'em how it's done, darlin'."

As the legionnaires closed around the two women, Val leaned down to Astrid. "How good are you with that?" she asked quietly, nodding at the axe Astrid held.

Astrid grinned. "Very good."

Val grinned back, a gleam in her eye. "I think we're going to get along just fine, you and I."

The first legionnaire struck out with his gladius, and Astrid whirled to the attack, her axe spinning with deadly proficiency as she cut him down in a blink. It seemed to be the signal for them to rush, and the rest of the Romans began to enter the fray. The other prisoners moaned at the sounds, their blindfolds shielding them from the sight. Val fought like a Valkyrie, Stoick's axe flashing and flickering as she sliced through their ranks with ferocious speed.

Rusalka's screams reached a fever-pitch as the soldiers ringing her began to close, and she let forth a huge gust of flame, her head swinging side to side. Astrid could dimly hear Hiccup's voice pleading with her over the ring of metal on metal and the thud of her axe hitting flesh. Up in the purple box of cloth, a woman was shrieking in rage, and a soft-faced teen was stamping his foot in petulant fury. Astrid caught a glimpse of both the Emperor Claudius and the boy Britannicus. Both were leaning forward in astonishment, though the Emperor seemed aghast and the boy seemed delighted, his fists pumping into the air in victory.

Astrid hacked off another head and turned, panting, just as a familiar sound rent the air. "Night Fury!" she roared, and whirled as Toothless, his green eyes whirling, leapt lithely over the burning cloth shade that sheltered the stands on the northern side. "Toothless, here!" she called as another legionnaire fell beneath her blade, and his blunt head swung to her. Assessing the situation, he drew in a breath and shot a lightning firebolt into their attackers, before bounding through the shocked, screaming or stunned crowd to the arena floor. Men and women threw themselves from his path, but he paid them no heed as he flowed graceful and deadly over the tiers and the scorching sand to Astrid.

She struggled to hoist herself up into the saddle, and felt Val push her into place. She turned to the woman. "Get on!" she barked. "Hold on to me!"

"She's on!" she heard Stoick call, "Let's go!"

Astrid pushed back the pedal, and Toothless gave her an enquiring look. "We're going home, big guy," she said firmly, and he whuffled in satisfaction, his limbs tensing.

As Toothless sprang from the floor, Astrid looked down to see Rusalka's wings spread to their fullest extent in preparation for the all-important downbeat. Hiccup's hand was raised in salute again to the purple box, and he pressed his hand over his heart when he saw Britannicus do the same. Claudius himself was slumped back in his seat, but he raised his hand as well, before making a shooing motion. His lined face was weary, but there was a glint in his tired eyes as he looked sidelong to his raving wife, before smiling conspiratorially back at Hiccup.

"Did the Emperor just…" Val began, and Astrid began to laugh.

"Yeah," she said gaily. "He did."

"I must be going mad," Val said in a musing voice. "I thought we just wrecked the games, my husband turned up in Rome, my son rode a giant sea-dragon, and the Emperor _smiled_ at him."

"He has that effect on people," Astrid said, still laughing, as the Orionos rose from the sandy circle. Toothless arched nimbly in the air to draw up beside Rusalka, their noses pointing northwards while the city, the noise and the crowds fell far below.

* * *

(1) Condemned criminals and heretics – including Christians.


	21. Chapter 21

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

**Uh. Sex. Yes. (As promised, Foxy's Girl!) Small persons should not be reading this anyway. Tsk.**

**clockwork mockingbird: **Thank you so much - I loved the mental image you conjured, that was hilarious! More Stoick and Val reunion below! Also, Hiccup and Astrid have a talk. They're on their way home! **The Incredible Puba: **He _is_ a cheeky sod, isn't he! Glad you liked the rescue - final fight scene lives up to your expectations, I hope! Thank you! **The Elven Spear:** Oh, thank you! I know, poor Britannicus! *sob* I always felt so sorry for him. More is here, and updates every day, promise! **drayconette: **Oh, thank you! I know, they got him back, and three cheers for the Briton! He is so awesome. **Negra: **Aw, wow! Thank you so much, glad I kept the suspense going! A bit more hardship coming up, but Hiccup's got his support network back now, so it's time to FIGHT BACK, OH YEAH! **Voldyne: **Ah, gotcha! *facepalm* Yep, he's _definitely _paid his dues in that regard, no need for losing another extremity, I feel! Val did give it her best shot, too bad she was caught, but hooray for rescue team on a massive dragon! Thank you! **Ze Great Camicazi: **Thank you so much! *blushity blush!* **Romance and Musicals: **Thank you thank you thank you! Cute Stoick, Astrid & Val moment, embarrassed Hiccup! Hee! I know, well, Christianity was seen as a cult at this point, still very underground and extremely not mainstream. It's 50 AD, so Jesus was killed only 17 years prior. The Romans (who were quite secular, despite having holy days and religious festivals) thought it was dangerous, and it was by no means the only underground religion at that time - there were loads and they were usually lumped in together under the category of 'no way'. Interesting in retrospect, no? **darkmaster7987: **I had a BALL writing the rescue! Gosh it was fun! I loved bringing out that touch of Hiccuplike sarcasm in Val too, and Britannicus is such a cheeky little sod! Oh, thank you so much, that's a relief to hear! I often feel that Hiccup's 'leader' side gets a bit misused. I mean, it's part of him, but not the whole part - he doesn't suddenly become Master of All Things and lose his stammering sarcastic self. It's a side that comes out when he has a plan. So glad you liked how I pulled it off! **story master: ** 1. Go to the home page for FanFiction. net, 2. See that blue bar at the top? It says "FanFiction. Net - unleash your imagination" on one side. 3. On the other side, in the corner, you'll find the words, "Sign Up". 4. Click it and follow the prompts. If this doesn't work, try in the "Help" section for Fanfiction. Net. It may be your browser window, I don't know. Glad you liked the chapter! Thank you! **Leon Woon: **Oh wow, thank you so much, that's an amazing thing to hear! A bit more emotional stuff today - some family fluff (Definitely more Stoick & Val reunion!) and some Hiccup/Astrid! Rusalka is as tall as the Green/Red/Blue-Grey Death (lol!) but her head is sort of canine-shaped rather than horse-like. **childofthestorm: **Wooohooo! I think Fishlegs would more be excited by the dragon herself; he thinks the Boneknapper is 'awesome' as well, after all! Val & Astrid - oh they are two of a kind, aren't they! Poor Hiccup, didn't even _know_ he fell in love with a woman just like his mum. They _will_ drive him mental! At least he's pretty awesome himself! Thank you! **Alluring Alliteration: **His 'something crazy's are getting even crazier! *g* Thank you so much!

* * *

It. Was. Freezing.

Hiccup shrugged back into the fur Tuff had passed to him, pulled as tightly as it could be around his shoulders. The air at their altitude was bitingly cold, though the sun had shone brightly all day. Below he could see Toothless, Astrid and his mother coasting in warmer currents. He envied them.

They had flown the whole day, and night was falling fast. The ground Rusalka and Toothless had covered was nothing short of phenomenal, though Hiccup could see that Toothless was tiring where Rusalka wasn't. Pehaps because Rusalka was designed for 'flying' through water as well as air, and water had far more resistance. Either way, his friend's wingbeats were slower than usual, and his neck had extended with strain.

There were distant snowy peaks in the distance, and Hiccup twisted in his saddle, his limbs and wounded side stiff from cold. "Dad!" he yelled, "Dad, you got that chart?"

Stoick unfolded it – and it promptly blew back into his face. "Thor's balls," he growled, pawing at the thing to unstick, but the wind was simply too strong.

"Okay, that's not going to work," Hiccup sighed, and squinted over at the setting sun. "We should land!" he yelled.

"PLEASE," said Ruffnut emphatically from her perch behind her fiancé, immediately followed by moans and shouts of agreement from the others.

"I have extreme need of a tree in point three of a second," whimpered Fishlegs, and Snotlout nodded violently.

"And my butt is completely numb," grumbled Tuffnut. Hiccup had to admit, they all had a point.

"Okay, going down," he yelled, and leaned forward on Rusalka's neck, his hands pressing against her skull. She rumbled in acceptance, and her nose obediently dipped, her whole body arching into a graceful, shallow dive.

"Bladder…" Fishlegs gasped, "Ooooh, downwards trajectory leads to exponentially increased pressure on the bla-ha-ha-hadder…"

"Hold on there, 'Legs," Hiccup shouted.

"You'd better," grunted Gobber, who was sitting in front of Fishlegs. The blond young man swallowed, and his eyes closed. His lips were moving, and Hiccup wondered if he was praying.

As they descended, they drew level with Astrid and Valhallarama, who looked surprised. "Going my way?" Hiccup yelled as they passed, and Astrid shook her head in amusement even as Valhallarama smiled tightly, her eyes travelling to Stoick fighting with the map.

"So, are we stopping for the night?" Astrid bellowed, and Hiccup nodded at the mountains. (1)

"I don't wanna try and cross those in the dark, do you?" he shouted back, and she nodded in agreement. Toothless gave a groan of exhaustion as he followed the giant Orionos towards the green-flecked fields below.

There was a river cutting merrily through the grass, and Rusalka dropped heavily beside it, her wings shaking stiffly as she dipped her head to drink. Hiccup rubbed his neck to ease the chill that had settled into his muscles, even as Fishlegs slid from his saddle and waddled hastily towards a small stand of trees nearby.

Toothless practically flopped down beside Rusalka and Astrid unhooked herself slowly from his harness with fingers made clumsy by the cold. Valhallarama's face still held traces of her astonishment at the morning's rescue and the manner of travel, but her eyes kept sliding back to her husband and son. She was watching Stoick even as she gingerly dismounted from the Night Fury and offered her hand to Astrid, who scowled at needing the assistance but took it anyway.

Hiccup waited until everyone had climbed down from Rusalka safely before pulling himself out of his saddle and spreading his arms over her broad head. "Thanks, girl," he murmured. "You were amazing." He was answered by a fatigued croon. He scratched the brilliant blue scales briefly, before grabbing the saddle's guide rope and clambering down slowly and painfully. He felt like a hundred-year-old man, and no doubt he was moving like one too.

The minute his feet touched soil, he was grabbed by strong arms and held tightly. "Ooof!" he gasped. He was too stiff and sore for that sort of thing.

"You idiot child," his mother said in a low, fond voice, "you crazy, crazy boy."

"Ow, Mum," Hiccup managed, but her arms didn't relent.

"Thank you," she whispered into his hair, and his arms rose to hug her back.

"Think of it as every time I should have cleaned my room, all rolled into one," he mumbled back, and she shook with silent laughter.

"Oh, sweetheart," she said brokenly, before pulling back at his sharp intake of breath. "Did I hurt you?"

He gave her a disapproving look at her expression of guilt. "It's getting better. Really it is. It wasn't your fault, Mum. Don't beat yourself up about it, okay?"

"Don't tell me what to do, young man," she said with a small half-smile. "I'm still your mother, don't you forget it."

"Not likely to," he said, smiling crookedly back. She kissed his forehead gently and smoothed his roughened cheek.

"You need another shave," she said absently, before she focused on him again. "I may never forgive you, you know."

"What, for not shaving?" he said, bemused. She laughed again, green eyes full of something bittersweet and yet joyous.

"For growing up without me," she corrected. "And you've even had the temerity to make me a grandmother in a few months."

"I didn't know about that," he protested, heat rising in his cheeks. She grinned his own crooked grin at him.

"I couldn't be happier," she said gently. He hugged her as tightly as he dared, his side twinging. Her arms wrapped around him again, and she kissed the top of his head.

"Bet you could," he whispered.

"What's that?" she whispered back.

"Bet you could be happier," he looked up to meet her gaze, and kissed her cheek. "Go talk to Dad."

Her eyes filled with longing, love and trepidation, and she breathed out shakily. "Hiccup…"

"Go on," he pulled away, squeezing her hand as he let go. "He's been waiting fifteen years. I'll still be here when you're done talking."

She stared for a moment, before smiling once more and kissing his forehead. "Thank you."

"Just… I _really_ don't want any details," he said wryly, and she chuckled before her spine straightened and she looked over towards the river. Stoick was sitting on a boulder and leaning over the map. His eyes were wandering over to them every two seconds, snapping back to the map with no sense of subtlety. He was obviously restraining himself from rushing over and grabbing Val only with the very greatest of efforts, and only out of respect for what she and Hiccup had suffered together.

"Oh for Frigga's sake," she said with exasperated affection, and grabbed Hiccup's hand, dragging him over to where his father was standing hurriedly, map sliding to the loamy soil and his eyes soft and worshipful.

"Val-" he began, but she threw her arms around him before her could finish. His own arms jerked in surprise, before his forearms clasped her around the shoulders and squeezed tightly. Hiccup overheard his mother's muffled sob, and he bit his lip uncomfortably. He probably shouldn't be overhearing this reunion.

"Oh, Val," Stoick breathed, and his bearded face pressed against the side of her head. "Val…"

She pulled back and kissed him, once, hard. "You never remarried," she said with bright eyes.

"Never," he said, before pulling her tight once more. "Never found a woman mad enough to take your place."

"You…" she choked, and her body shook the rest of the sentence to smithereens. "I never… I'm _sorry_, Stoick…"

"Shh," he said tenderly. "In the past. You're back now. That's what matters." His huge hand stroked her hair. "That's if you still want an old man like me."

She laughed once more, an edge of hysteria creeping into it. "Oh, and the mighty Chief of Berk could do better than a grey old woman, I'm sure."

"I don't see any old women here," Stoick breathed, and kissed her again. "Just a beautiful, crazy, incredible one. Val. _Val_. Gods, I've never loved anyone but you."

Hiccup winced, and averted his eyes. Astrid was watching him in amusement, and he pulled a face at her. She waved cheerfully, before returning to unsaddling Toothless.

"You daft bugger," Valhallarama said tearfully. "You raised our son, all alone. I…"

"Stop it," he soothed. "Aye, an' you should be right pleased to have missed it."

"Thanks," Hiccup groused.

"You would have killed me three times a day, when you weren't killin' him," Stoick continued. "Thor's beard, I was rubbish at it, Val… an' he were worse than a Terror in a chicken coop…"

"Really, Dad. Thanks."

"…I didn't know what to do wi' him," Stoick leaned his forehead against Valhallarama's, and smoothed back her streaked hair. "He were too much like you, I expect. I never could keep up."

"Standing right here, guys…"

"Hush, Hiccup," said Valhallarama, grabbing his arm and pulling him to join their embrace. "Stoick, that's a load of rot if I ever heard it. You loved him, and you raised him, and he's… just look at him!"

Hiccup stood in the arms of his mother and father, and felt a huge warm glow begin in the pit of his stomach. "Hey, I have no idea how anyone ever tears their eyes away from all this," he joked, and Stoick rolled his eyes even as Valhallarama laughed.

"You see?" Stoick said, though his lips were twitching. "Impossible child."

"Oh, yeah, you can talk, Mister That's-The-Way-It-Is," Hiccup grinned up at them both, soaking in their faces, the feel of their arms around him. His mother and father. His family. Except…

"Astrid…?" he twisted his head to where Astrid had thrown down Toothless' tack, and had pressed her hands to the small of her back and stretched. It made the bulge of her belly stand out as she arched, and he felt his cheeks heating involuntarily once more.

"Look at that," said Valhallarama with a touch of pride. "She's still fighting, isn't she, an' that's our grandchild in there. He picked well, our boy."

"Don't think he ever had eyes for anyone else," Stoick agreed with a small grin at Hiccup's blush. "Astrid, get yourself over here!"

"Hold up," she growled, her eyes closing as she bent forward and rounded her shoulders. "I'm as stiff as a plank."

"There's a touching family reunion goin' on," Stoick said pointedly. "You're invited."

"Hiccup can rub your back later," Val said, and chuckled at the way Hiccup's _ears_ even went red.

"Sounds great," Astrid said, giving Hiccup a slightly naughty look. His knees wobbled and he swallowed.

"Can we all stop trying to turn me different colours?" he asked weakly. "First green, now red…"

"Cheeky boy," Valhallarama chided fondly as Astrid slipped her arm around him, and the other around her newfound mother-in-law.

"He always was," Astrid agreed.

"Oh boy," Hiccup said in a resigned voice.

Stoick shook his head, beaming. "My family," he said gruffly, his eyes still glistening.

"Our family," Val corrected firmly. "You can stop with that head of the household malarky. You know it never worked on me."

"Our family," Hiccup blinked back a suspicious wetness, his cheeks aching from smiling at them. "You said it out loud, you're stuck with me now."

"If you remember," Astrid said archly, "I even volunteered to be a part of this lunacy."

"If you can't beat 'em," Hiccup shrugged, and Astrid snorted. "Okay, so you beat everything hands down. This is not news to me. Or anyone here, really."

"Our family," Astrid nodded firmly, "but not all of it. My mother's at home, and Ainid, and…" she said in a slightly odd voice, before looking down at herself. "It's awake again."

"Astrid," Hiccup pulled her tighter against himself, and his mother's arm wrapped closer around his shoulders.

"Oh no, here they go again," Stoick said in overly dramatic resignation. "Val, it's amazin' the way they go on, it's like they don't even need to breathe. I'm thinkin' you an' I-"

"For the good of my mental health, you will not finish that sentence," Hiccup said in a panicked voice, and the other three in their tight hug laughed at his expression.

Val smiled around at them. "I love you," she said to Hiccup.

His skinny arm tightened around her, his smile the mirror of hers.

"I'm going to love you," she said to Astrid, her eyes warm.

Astrid tossed her fringe out of her eyes, and grinned. "I want to know how you did that half-pivot and swing in the arena without ending up with an axe in the face," she said briskly. "And I think I might end up loving you too," she added grudgingly.

Val looked up at Stoick. "I love you," she breathed. Stoick gazed at her worshipfully, silently, his eyes shining.

"Aaaaaand I think that's our cue to leave," Hiccup said, kissing his mother's cheek again. "And y'know. Love you, Mum. Dad."

"Get out of here, son," Stoick ruffled Hiccup's hair, before his eyes locked back on his wife.

Hiccup dragged Astrid away from the pair, and collapsed on the boulder Stoick had been sitting on. "So that's what it's like," he said distractedly as Astrid sat beside him rubbing at her back.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Being really, really, really embarrassed by your parents," he said, blinking. Stoick had always been a little too distant, a little too formal, for Hiccup to even contemplate being embarrassed by him. Hiccup _himself_ had been the embarrassment.

"Welcome to everyone else's world," Astrid said dryly, and leaned up against him. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Sore." He considered. "Happy."

"Yeah?" she carded her hand through his hair, and he leaned into it.

"Yeah," he said, looking sidelong at her. She smiled her closed-mouth smile at him.

"So, is it later yet?" she prompted, and he felt his warm glow dim a little. He sighed, standing and pulling her up.

"Probably," he admitted. "Let's find somewhere quiet, then."

"We don't have to do this now," she said, studying his face, but he shrugged awkwardly.

"Best to get it over and done with, I guess," he said heavily. "Anyway, what was all that about a backrub?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Your son or daughter," she said pointedly, and his mind immediately flew to pieces, "has been lying on something in me that makes my whole back twinge. _Then_ I spent six hours in a saddle, in the cold, hunched over, with only one bathroom break. This is not an ideal situation in which to be pregnant, Hiccup."

"Ah," he hedged, but his mind was still gibbering '_your son or daughter!_'

"So I'll grab two of the camp-rolls Gobber made up back at Caratacus' house," she continued, "and I'll meet you in that copse, okay?"

He nodded dumbly.

"Good," she said in satisfaction, before glancing back at Stoick and Valhallarama, who were wrapped in each other's arms and whispering to each other softly. "She looks like you," Astrid said with a half-smile, before her eyes flicked back to him, and her smile grew arch. "You haven't heard a word since I said 'your son or daughter', have you."

He shook his head, and beamed at her.

"Oh, Hiccup," she laughed, and kissed him. "Into the trees, go on."

He patted Toothless absently, and trotted stupidly into the little stand of trees, sitting down on the soft, springy turf between the trunks. _Your son or daughter_. Gods.

Fishlegs emerged from some distance away, his face flushed with relief. "Oh, hey, Hiccup," he said with a dopey grin. "I feel _so_ much better now."

"That's great, 'Legs," Hiccup replied vaguely. His mind was full of family and mothers and fathers and sons or daughters.

"You okay?" Fishlegs offered, and Hiccup grinned at nothing, lacing his fingers behind his head and sinking back into the grass.

"Never better," he said, beaming up at the darkening sky. "Never."

Fishlegs scratched at his head. "Right, so…"

"Go find Ruff, Fishy," Astrid's voice floated over, and Hiccup sat up again, giving her a blinding smile. She threw down two rolls of cloth, and gave him a wink. "I saw her getting water from the river earlier. I think she could use a hand."

"Oh," Fishlegs said, brightening, and he rushed off.

"He is _gone_ over her," Astrid shook her head as she watched him for a moment.

"Ruff and 'Legs," Hiccup commented. "Didn't see that coming."

"Neither did they," she said, easing herself down onto the grass beside him. "It's good though. She's happy."

"I'm happy for them," Hiccup said truthfully, but his eyes were locked back on Astrid. "I'm happy."

"You said," she replied. "Hiccup…"

"I know." He sighed gustily, and took her hand, toying with the ring around her finger. "I need to talk about it, but…"

"You don't want to spoil the moment," she finished astutely. "Love, just tell me. It's not going to take away what you've done here. It might help."

He warmed inside. "I love it when you call me that."

"I know," she watched him play with her hand.

He sighed again, before meeting her wide blue eyes. He hoped their son or daughter got those eyes. "It sort of started when I was at Plotina's the first time," he began slowly.

"When you first got to Rome?" Astrid asked, and he nodded.

"I was drugged," he said bitterly. "I'd spent all those months on the ships trying not to think about you, because it hurt too much to know I was never going to see you again. Just… too much. But I was tired, and drugged, and weak, and I just broke down, right there in front of this grand Roman lady covered in jewels. I cried and cried." He snorted. "It was pathetic."

"She didn't think so," Astrid said gently. "I met her, remember. She was fond of you. She knew me."

He looked up, surprised. "Oh, that's… yeah, I showed her my felt pouch."

"I can't believe you carried that all over the place," she commented, a smile in the corner of her mouth. "I am so embarrassed that the whole of Rome knows me as a terrible seamstress."

He grinned briefly, before a heaviness crept over his heart once more. "It was all that kept me going, at times," he admitted.

She didn't say anything, but her fingers tightened around his.

"That was the beginning, anyway," he continued. "It all came to a head when Britannicus busted me out of those chambers. Alvin," he spat the name, "told me his plan for the dragons. To destroy Berk. They couldn't have anyone with the same firepower. First Berk, and then the world. All because I'd met Toothless, and made the dragon peace famous…"

"No," she said, softly but firmly. "No, Hiccup, that's not why. It was Roman politics, you said so yourself. It was only a matter of time before someone tried to use the dragon-training knowledge for their own ends. Not everyone is as good a person as you," she nudged him, "Mister Noble. You did a good thing, Hiccup, a _great _thing, and Alvin and Agrippina saw a way to twist it for their own selfish gain. It wasn't your fault. You got caught in between a conman with an axe to grind and a woman with a political agenda. They used you, yes, but you've stopped that."

He was silent.

"It wasn't your fault," Astrid repeated, and kissed his cheek very, very gently.

He released a slow shaky breath, and fixed his eyes on their joined hands. "It wasn't," he said quietly.

"No, it wasn't," she shook their joined hands a little and leaned against his shoulder. "And now we fix it."

He nodded wordlessly for a moment, before tipping his head to lean on hers. "Yeah."

"So, what has to happen?" she prompted.

"Alvin has more dragons," Hiccup said gustily. "He's probably mustering them now. Agrippina will distance herself from it to protect Nero's reputation, but Alvin will try to salvage what he can. That means taking out Berk. Oh, _and_ revenge on me. If he gets a victory, Agrippina might be convinced to change her mind – though I doubt it after the scene we caused this morning. Anyway, the big point is we're going to have visitors."

"So we get the clans together," Astrid said calmly. "We have Rusalka, and our own dragons. I'll bet they can't fly as fast or as far in a day as Toothless and Rusalka can."

"Probably not," he agreed. "And they won't be expecting the clans, either."

"We can fight this," Astrid said firmly. "And you, stop blaming yourself. That's like your mum saying it's _her_ fault she was captured."

He sat up straighter. "It wasn't her fault she was sold into slavery!"

She gave him a significant look, and he subsided a bit. "Okay, I get where you're coming from," he said grudgingly.

"Good," she said. "And for the record, I will always mean it."

"Mean what?" he asked.

"I _will_ hunt you down," she poked him in the chest.

He smiled, bringing her head towards his. "I'm counting on it."

Her kiss was warm and real and solid and Astrid. She was so vivid, so present. He ran his fingers over her cheek and her lips as he pulled away. "And you?" he raised his eyebrows a little.

"What about me?" she said defensively, and he tipped his head.

"Don't make me poke you," he warned. "You'd kill me, and then you'd have no husband to rub your back."

She made a strangled sound, and dropped her head against his shoulder. "It's just…" she broke off, and then took a deep breath. "Hiccup, it was a long time we spent looking for you. I never though you were _dead_, not once, it's just… with the baby and all…"

"You were frightened," he concluded.

"Yeah," she said shakily. "Don't tell anyone."

"You told me already," he reminded her, and she nodded against him. "Astrid, since you found me, you've been a bit…"

She nodded again. "I know," she muttered. "Just… don't die. Ever. Promise me."

"I solemnly promise that I will live forever," he said seriously. "I'm not going anywhere without you, ever again."

"Thank you," she breathed, and kissed him again.

His hands travelled up her thickened waist to settle in the small of her back, where he began to rub the tense muscles. "You're like iron," he muttered. "You shouldn't be this tense, I'm pretty sure it's not good. Did you want me to…?"

She moaned in relief, and flopped bonelessly against him. "Riiiiiight, that's a yes." He glanced over at the camp-rolls, recognising the same material that Caratacus' bedclothes were made of. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get a blanket or two down, and then I'll rub your back properly."

She looked at him with glazed eyes. "Uh huh," she said dazedly.

He hid a smile. "And then I'll turn into a dragon and wear a hat made of fish, and you can call me King Hiccup," he said gravely.

"Sounds good," she said dreamily.

He turned away to hide his twitching lips, though he couldn't quite control the shaking of his shoulders as he grabbed the blankets and spread them over the grass. Astrid had picked up his dad's old seal-fur as well, and he was tucking that underneath to stop the dew in the morning from soaking them when a hand lashed out and smacked his shoulder. "I heard that," Astrid said grumpily.

He snickered. "Eventually. Come on, down here. Do you…"

She crawled over to the blankets and curled up, kicking her boots off with a sigh and flopping back heavily. "Tease," she accused without rancour. "I missed your teasing."

"I missed you too," he said, and his breath hitched. "So much. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Tired. Sleepy. Achy. Pregnant."

"Saw that."

"Hard to miss," she said in rejoinder, and he grinned as he unbuckled his prosthetic leg and tugged off his boot, and shrugged off the too loose tunic.

"Yeah, but I kinda like it," he whispered confidentially and leaned over her again. His hand wandered around her belly to ruck her smock up slightly. She tensed and her hand snaked down to pull the smock down.

"Don't," she said hurriedly. "Hiccup, I'm all…"

"I like it," he repeated, and rucked the smock up again. "You're beautiful, and I want to see. My beautiful Astrid. Gods, it's amazing, like a dream, you have no…" he swallowed, struck dumb.

Revealed, her belly looked larger than under the smock, which had the added effect of concealing much of her natural slenderness. The contrast between the fine bones of her legs and the roundness of her abdomen was even more apparent to Hiccup, who had known the long planes of her intimately, had them etched into his mind. It seemed impossible, but wonderful at the same time. Her skin was smooth and still unblemished, though there was a faint shadowy line bisecting her belly, peeking out from her leggings to her stretched but still concave navel and fading towards the peak of the dome. He smoothed his hand over her, stretching his fingers as wide as he could to memorise the curve of her, at this moment, beautiful and vibrant and swelling with their child.

"Astrid," he choked. "Look at you. Look at that. That's… Astrid, that's _incredible_."

She had caught her lip between her teeth as he studied her in silence, but his answer made her mouth fall open slightly. "You're just feeling all manly," she accused breathlessly. "All possessive."

"Hel yes," he said in a reverent voice. "It's a new feeling. The manly one, not the possessive one, that is."

"Oh yeah?" she arched her back slightly, pushing her belly against his palm. "You like it that you got me this way, huh?"

"Well," he hedged, trying desperately to keep his thoughts in order. "It _is_ a bit sexy, you carrying our baby."

"Hmmm," she studied him, a small smile on her face. "Out of all the reactions, that wasn't actually one I'd considered."

"Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously. "I mean, you're always perfect, you're never _not_ perfect, but now you've got…"

"Yes?" she lifted her chin, and arched herself again. Hiccup closed his eyes as certain parts of his anatomy that had gone neglected for five months (and twenty-one days, his libido added snippily) decided to register their interest in the proceedings. "Go on," she said breathily.

"You're…" he breathed slowly for a moment, before his eyes snapped open. "Is anyone likely to walk in on this?" he asked in alarm.

She gave him a cross look, and blew her fringe out of her eyes. "I told them I'd cut their kneecaps off if they interrupted. These trees are ours. There are other copses nearby. The others are by the river. I think Stoick and your mum are…"

"Laaaaalalalalala!" said Hiccup loudly, and clapped his hands over his ears.

Astrid giggled, and pulled his arms down. "You were saying…?" she traced the new line across his ribs, red and angry still but healing. It tickled, and he shivered.

"I was saying… something," he said bemusedly, and she said 'arrrgh', sat up a little awkwardly and whipped off her smock.

Hiccup said 'Ffffnnngh!' as his brain decided to exit stage left without so much as a farewell.

She had her breast-band on, but it was decidedly… tighter.

"Oh, Frigga," Hiccup whimpered.

She leaned back into the blankets, a collection of lush curves where once she had been a long lean line. "Hiccup," she said softly.

He just shook his head helplessly. "Astrid," he said thickly. "You're…"

"Come here," she commanded, and he fell into the soft bleached blankets, her arms clasping him against her, her belly pushing against his, round against lean. "You're so thin," she gasped, and kissed him again. Thoroughly.

"I know," he claimed her mouth in return. "You're not. I like it. Astrid…"

Her lips stretched into a smile under his. "I can tell you like it," she said with a lilt in her voice. "I'm glad."

He relaxed a little. "Oh good, I hoped you'd say that…"

"It's interesting…" she managed, and nipped his ear. He buried his face between her breasts and palmed a nipple beneath her breast-band, savouring the new fullness there, the ripeness. She gasped, and he gentled his approach. Obviously very sensitive now.

"What…?" he asked, his voice muffled.

She pushed her thigh between his legs, and pressed her hips forward. He moaned. "Well…" she panted, "you've never been all that… worried about masculine… endeavour or appearance…"

"Ngggh," he shook his head, and mouthed at her neck. She made a mewling noise and wriggled a little.

"But… you love it that everyone… can see me all… full of your baby," she whispered low in his ear. "Don't you?"

He moaned again, and his eyes rolled back into his head. "Y… yeah," he said shakily.

She grinned – and then she bit his collarbone.

As always when she bit him there, Hiccup was automatically and immediately _on fire_.

"Good," she said wickedly, and began to tug at his leggings impatiently.

"Astrid," he choked, and she shut him up with a kiss that trailed down his neck and turned into lots of nipping little kisses along his chest. Her lips closed over his nipple, and his head flopped back. Gods, it had been so long. Gods, it was so, so good.

"I love you," he babbled, aware of nothing but her. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…"

Her teeth scraped his nipple gently, and he stifled a sob. "Love you too," she said, before nipping and kissing down his stomach. Her belly pressed against his legs as she finally pulled down his leggings, and he pushed himself up to see her lips close over him and begin to move slow and syrupy along his length. It was almost too much – it had been too long. "Astrid…" he yelped.

She pulled away. "Too fast?" she said, concerned.

He rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and nodded wordlessly. His chest was heaving dramatically as he tried to bring his touch-starved body under control, but Astrid was like a feast to his senses and it was having none of it. "Need a minute," he groaned.

"Here," she said, unceremoniously stripping her own leggings off and pulling off her breastband. "You can rub my back like you promised, then."

He almost lost it at the sight of her ripening nakedness, and had to think of Gobber in a Roman matron's dress in order to control himself.

"You," he said tightly, "are a very wicked woman."

She lay down on her side, her back to him, and peeked playfully over her shoulder at him. "I know," she said smugly. "Get to rubbing, possessive boy."

He took one last shuddering breath, before splaying his fingers over her back and beginning to soften her tight muscles. She was so tense, the layer under her skin as hard as a rock. "What did you do to get like this?" he said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder-blade.

"Worried a lot, rode a dragon, killed some pirates, worried some more," she mumbled, as boneless as a dragon in sunlight. "Ohhh, that's amazing."

He kept massaging, his fingers beginning to cramp as his breathing began to slow a little and his body started to behave. "You're amazing," he said.

"You can tell me that as often as you like," she said in a drunken-sounding voice. "Ohhh, don't stop, that's the spot, right there."

"You're amazing," he said once more against the smooth skin of her shoulder. The air was warm, despite the nearby snow-peaked mountains, and stars winked down at him between the trees. He took a deep breath, inhaling her fragrance. She didn't quite smell the same – her normal scent was overlaid with a hint of charcoal and the tang of pregnancy hormones. He kissed her shoulder-blade again as he dug into the stiff muscles of her back.

"Mmmm," she said drowsily. "That's nice. Do that again."

He kissed the junction of her neck and shoulder, and mouthed up the column of her neck to her ear. "You taste good," he murmured.

He heard her laugh softly, and then gasp as he nibbled at her earlobe. "Your hands…" she slurred. "So good. Clever. Just in the right spot."

He smiled, and sucked lightly on the earlobe before releasing it. "Well, I am a smith."

She rolled over towards him and her slim arms snaked around his neck. "So you are," she said in a serious sort of way, and kissed him deeply.

His arms tightened around her rounded body. "I love you," he breathed again.

She licked at his collarbone lazily where she had bitten it. "Love you too," she said, barely audible.

He kissed her again, and then scooted down to view her new cleavage. The nipples were slightly darker, and they had already pebbled in desire. Her breasts were fuller, heavy and yet firm. He had always loved them, and they were still amazing now, but for a different reason, in such a different way. "Whoa," he said as he took one in his hand and she arched immediately. "_Really_ sensitive."

"Yeah, so you be careful with… those clever hands of yours," she said, eyes dilated.

"Maybe I won't use my hands then," he whispered, and lowered his head. He took her nipple into his mouth and licked so very softly, and her breath caught. He rolled the little bud slowly, and she keened, her head falling back.

"Want…" she said hoarsely. "Are you…"

"Yeah," he said just as hoarsely. "Yeah."

She hoisted herself up, and sat back on her heels, her head tipping as her chest rose and fell with her quick breath. "Might have to… be me on top," she said eventually.

He immediately lay down obediently. His every nerve ending was alight. She was so there, so real. In that moment she seemed a part of the landscape, a part of the trees and the stars and the warm night air, her smell, her taste, her hair. She climbed over him, the rise of her stomach dragging against his own, and he had to suck in his breath to calm the stuttering of his heart and the renewed surging of his blood. His hand fumbled between her legs, seeking and finding that bumpy little gift.

"You're so wet already," he rasped as her head jerked back and her body pressed against his, round and growing and vibrant. Her hair was haloed by starshine. "Gods, Astrid, the sight of you right now…."

"Unnngh," she said, cheeks flushed and eyes afire, sliding back against his fingers. "Hiccup… now, _please_..."

He took away his hand and held himself still as she sank down slowly upon him. She was tight, tighter than she'd been since the night of their wedding. All those long months without this moment, without the _rightness_ of it, without the sheer gladness that he could have it again with her. Hiccup couldn't help releasing a choked cry as the heat and the velvet softness enveloped him, her walls holding him tight and pulsing slightly with the tide of her own heartbeat.

"You… okay?" she managed hoarsely.

He had no words. He took her face between his hands and kissed her as deeply as he could. She pulled away, her mouth bruised with kisses. "Oh, you're more than okay," she smiled.

He smiled back shakily, and brushed her hair from her eyes. "Astrid," was all he could think to say.

She began to move, her legs folding either side of his hips and her hands each side of his chest just above the bandaged wound in his side. The delicious drag of her movements, first squeezing him and then engulfing him, caused his head to reel in sensory overstimulation. His hips lifted to meet hers on each stroke, and he bit his lip as she caressed his face. His hands rose once more to flick over her breasts, and she gasped, low and guttural. She began to speed up.

_Oh yeah, sensitive, of course,_ his mind piped from some lonely corner that wasn't totally consumed by her. His thumbs began to circle the darkened nipples carefully, squeezing ever so gently. A moan began to build in the back of her throat, and he squeezed again, before pushing himself up as far as the solidity of her belly allowed and nibbling one, so softly, so tenderly.

She shuddered, and her muscles gripped him reflexively, before her spasming became regular and an uneven cry tore through her panting. He kept up his attentions to her breast even as she slowed, her breath ragged, and then gave her a last lick before she was kissing him again.

"Definite side-benefits," she said indistinctly, and he chuckled against her mouth, her breath bathing his face. _Astrid…_

"Definitely," he agreed, and his voice had _never_ been that deep.

She began to move again, and this time her hands roamed rather than his. "Oh, Hiccup…" she said shakily as she traced the new scar on his ribs, before replacing her fingers with her mouth. The wound was newly-healed and tender, and the spike of sensation she caused wasn't pain but joined with the huge nebulous pleasure building inside him.

"I'm okay," he croaked, and she nipped at his nipple, before leaning back over him to lave her tongue over his sharp collarbone. "I'm okay…"

"You're better than that," she said harshly, her hips canting faster against his. "You're so much better than just okay, Hiccup… oh, my Hiccup…"

His eyes widened. "You're not… _already...?_"

But she was, her head throwing back and her internal muscles gripping him again to the point of pain. She gasped, her eyes unfocused, rocking back and forth along the slope of her belly as her body began to shake and tremble above him once more.

That did it. His hips pressed up faster and firmer, and he could feel himself lengthening inside her as she quivered and palpitated around him. His eyes were locked to hers, blue, so blue. He could dive into all that blue, be drowned in it.

His limbs began to lose coherency, his lips peeling back from his teeth as the wave approached. The stars, the warm air, the trees, her skin, her scent, her blue eyes, her breath on his face, their child in her belly, her hair in his eyelashes; it all came together and pierced him through the heart. The wave crested, teetering as he thrust into her, his amazing, brave, beautiful, pregnant wife, and he was drowned as her name fell from his lips.

She collapsed onto his chest as he tried to recall who he was and how to focus his eyes properly. "Ow," he said indistinctly, and she shifted her hand from the bandage carefully.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Oh, don't be," he said fervently. "Really, really don't be."

She kissed his jaw sloppily and pulled away, collapsing beside him and dragging up the bleached blanket. "Definite side-benefits," she said in a hazy, drowsy way, and he couldn't hold back a silly-sounding giggle.

"You're gonna wear me out," he bubbled foolishly.

"No, you're gonna make the most of it," Astrid yawned. "From everything I've heard? You aren't touching me again for _months_ after the baby's born."

He stopped giggling. "Months?" he ventured.

It was her turn to giggle. "I love you, Hiccup," she said sleepily, her body curling up against his.

"Can we go back to this 'months' thing? How many are we talking here?" he said nervously, and she poked his shoulder.

"Sleep now," she ordered. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. His other hand ghosted over her belly, feeling lazy movements within. "That goes for you too, Tiny Haddock," she mumbled.

"Tiny Haddock?" Hiccup asked, that same warm glow spreading through his chest. "Is that what you've been calling it?"

She sniffed, snuggling closer against him. "Better than just 'the baby'."

"I like it," he said, grinning against her hair.

"I know you do," she said, smugly and muzzily.

He kissed her temple and rubbed the sweep of her belly softly. "I love it." _My son or daughter. My family._

She nuzzled against him, and her hand settled over his. "I know that too."

* * *

(1) The Alps.


	22. Chapter 22

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

**The Incredible Puba: **Aw, thank you! Val and Astrid are definitely cut from the same bolt of cloth, aren't they? **Voldyne: **Side benefits *g* absolutely! Yes, they've definitely got the edge this time over Alvin and his dragons, which is a nice change compared to what has come before! Thank you! **Foxy's Girl: **Hooray! I'm glad it soothed your heartbreak, if only a little *g* Hope you get some rest, and thank you so much as always! **childofthestorm: **Yay, married pregnant sex! It always baffles me that people consider women to just shut down in that state. Generally, pregnant women have _twice_ the drive (hormones again)! It also gives us a chance to see Hiccup as a doting daddy-to-be. SO CUTE. I'm so happy you liked the family reunion! Yes, a HUGE relief after all that angst... and we're definitely going to meet the baby, don't you worry! Thank you! **TimeMage0955: **Oh, thank you soooo much! *blush* Hope the test went well, and glad I could help! **Romance and Musicals: **Lol, I liked that bit myself. "What? M-months? _None? _But...!" *BIG POUT TIMES* Hee! Glad you thought the lovin's were hot, and that you liked the history tidbits! Thank you so very much! **Ze Great Camicazi: **Yay, back together! Now it's time to get home and kick some Roman butt! **Negra: **Yay, surprise sex! And believe me, it wasn't my idea - they just launched themselves at each other and started snogging, no conscious direction from me at all! Aw, Haddock family all together :*) Hah, glad you found that moment funny, I do too! Oh wow, thank you soooo much! **clockwork mockingbird: **Aw, his first parental squick moment, lol! Boy is growing up! XD GRRR ALVIN, WE'RE ON TO YOU. Thank you, dearest mockingbird! **story master: **Looking forward to your message! And I'm so sorry to hear that. You and Slicer stay a team, okay? **darkmaster7987: **Hee, hat made of fish, I loved that bit! Just call him King Hiccup! Thank you so much! Glad the lemon was cold-shower-inducing *g* Oh and embarrassed by his mum and dad? He will be. He _will be. _**Leon Woon: **Aw, family tearing-up time! Thank you! Glad you liked the lovin's, I agree, there's a certain hawtness there. The Alps actually begin in Northern Italy - they've got the whole of Austria and Germany to get over as yet (I've made them not Icelandic, but rather Baltic Vikings due to all the Germanic references in the movie). They're in Lombardy, Italy for that moment, near Mantua. Still, Rusalka's a lot faster than a ship, thank goodness! And yes, Hiccup's got a few things up his sleeve for that battle... **The Elven spear: **There's a certain sense of 'too good to be true' isn't there? Still, they're a lot better off than they _were._ And yup, whole thing's finished (26 chapters!) so posting one per day! Thank you!

Time we had some Hiccup-Toothless bonding all up in here!

* * *

Hiccup woke before the sun was up. He'd always woken earlier than Astrid. Though he'd felt her get up sometime in the night and return, she was fast asleep as he kissed the side of her head and tucked the blankets closer around her. Her hair was a messy blonde cloud surrounding her face.

He inched to the edge of the seal-fur and pulled on his leggings and then the leather sock over his bad leg. It was extremely tatty, the lambswool pilled and worn on the inside and the leather smeared in charcoal and sand, but there was no help for it until he got home and could get one of his spares. He grabbed his mended foot and strapped it on, before tossing his tunic over his shoulder, glancing back at his sleeping wife, and beginning the walk to the river and the others.

The sky was the colour of steel, though rosy fingers of light caressed the eastern horizon. Hiccup's boot was soon wet through in the morning dew, and he breathed deeply. The air was clean, crisp and sharp – he could almost believe he was back home. The smell of snow from the mountains hit him, and his eyes fluttered shut. It was glorious, standing there alone in the pre-dawn light, breathing in the morning and thinking of home without guilt.

Then it hit him that his ribs didn't hurt. He took a deep breath, his lungs expanding his ribcage, but unlike before there was no accompanying twinge as the wound complained. He put a hand over the bandage, and though there was a dull tenderness, there was no stab of pain as there was while it had been infected.

"Awesome," he breathed, peeling back the fabric to see. A small amount of blood stained the bandage, but it had nearly closed cleanly. He gingerly prodded the skin around it, and it was a normal temperature, not hot with distemper. He grinned. "Getting there, slowly," he murmured.

A series of hoarse barks made his head snap up, and he was almost bowled over backwards by Toothless' enthusiasm. "Toothless! Aw, bud, you were amazing, you were the hero of the hour! Saving Mum, saving Astrid, saving the day all over again…" Hiccup laughed as the Night Fury danced excitedly around him, his wings half-extended and his head pushing under his hands and against his body repeatedly. "Oh, c'mere, you…"

Toothless crouched, his hindquarters wriggling in preparation, before he leapt at his boy. His forelegs wrapped around Hiccup as the dragon rolled onto his back, his wings flopping to the wet grass on either side. Hiccup grabbed onto a blocky leg with a yelp of laughter as his world abruptly turned black, scaled and upside-down. Toothless pushed his blunt nose into Hiccup's hair and crooned loud enough to make his bones shake. Hiccup, his laughter unabated, pushed himself up higher on Toothless' broad chest and threw his arms around his best friend's neck.

After a moment, Hiccup raised his head from the soft scales under Toothless' chin. "Hey, whatcha say we go flying?"

He abruptly found himself sitting on the grass as Toothless whisked away faster than thought, and returned with his gear between his teeth. He dumped it on the ground before Hiccup, and sat on his haunches, his body wriggling with excitement and his mouth open in anticipation. Hiccup looked at his fearsome and legendary Night Fury friend imitating a wide-eyed puppy, and chuckled again as he pulled himself up.

"Okay, we're going flying! How about we get ourselves something to eat, huh? Whatcha say to some hunting?"

Toothless wriggled some more and his tongue swiped around his mouth. He was vibrating so much Hiccup could barely get the tailfin on. "Hold still, bud, or we're never getting anywhere!" he poked the lashing tail, which smacked him in the shin in retaliation. Hiccup shook his head, grinning.

Eventually the dragon was finally saddled up, and Hiccup adjusted the pedal from the flesh-and-blood foot configuration to the stirrup needed for his prosthetic. "Been a while, buddy," he murmured as he pulled on his tunic, and then the leather flight tunic. It was a little stretched around the laces, and he grinned foolishly as he picked at them.

Toothless was looking at him knowingly. A dragon's smirk hovered around his mouth.

"Oh, shut up," Hiccup pushed his head away, and Toothless whuffled in amusement as Hiccup mounted, and then they were rising in the steely sky and they were flying together again and everything was right with the world.

It was just as it had been before. They moved without hesitation, his foot clicking the pedal through the gears without thought as they barrelled through the sky. Toothless warbled in exultation and Hiccup whooped as they executed a loop before spinning breathlessly up towards the puffy clouds placidly traversing the air. They darted between them, zigzagging and dodging, Toothless' wings flickering and Hiccup's hair whipping in the wind. "Yeah!" he shouted in pure rapture as Toothless' head stretched for a dive and they plummeted towards the ground like an arrow. They were two halves of the same creature in the air, their minds in tandem and their bodies in perfect synch.

Toothless banked from the dive and made a dazzling hairpin turn even as Hiccup tilted the gears on the tailfin to spread it wide. The sun peered over the eastern hills (1) bathing them in honey-tinted light, and Toothless spat a bolt of lightning toward it in celebration.

Hiccup laughed joyously, his arms outflung, as the rush of warm air swept over his body and ran through his hair like the hand of a friendly god. Toothless joined his voice to Hiccup's, barking and yowling in fierce elation, and the sound of their combined happiness rang through the still morning air.

"There!" Hiccup said excitedly, pointing down over Toothless' flank, and the dragon swang his head to view a flock of wild goats peacefully grazing amongst the foothills. "Think we can get breakfast, bud?"

Toothless rolled his shoulders in readiness, and Hiccup clicked the tailfin to lie flat against Toothless' tail. "Go, go, go!" he yelled wildly, and the Night Fury flattened his wings against his body, speeding faster than thought for the herd. The goats froze, startled, but it was too late for flight as Toothless, more agile and nimble even than a wild mountain goat, extended his forepaws and grabbed two, snapping their spines expertly. Hiccup cringed. Gods, he hated that sound.

He pressed the fin into position as Toothless beat his wings firmly to gain the momentum needed to carry his extra load. They banked into a brisk morning air current, facing the metallic western sky and the camp. The dark shape of Rusalka could be clearly seen against the glimmering river, and Hiccup felt his lips quirk ruefully. So much for their fun. She had to be fed, and two goats wouldn't do it.

They landed awkwardly, Toothless dropping his catch and stumbling slightly. He turned and regarded Hiccup with an irritated green gaze, and Hiccup grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, buddy, out of practise."

"Hiccup?" came a voice from the river, and Hiccup dismounted to see his mother (his _mother!_ It still didn't seem real) pulling a water-skin from the water and standing. He waved.

"Hey, we got some supplies! Well, I say _we_, what I really mean is _Toothless_ got us some supplies," he corrected himself, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "We better get some more, though, Rusalka's going to need a lot more than two goats…"

"Rusalka," Valhallarama said, her eyebrow raising at the whimsical name, "stood for four hours in the river last night with her mouth open. She's had more fish than an entire week's catch. I think she's going to be fine."

Hiccup looked with surprise back at the Orionos, who was sleeping peacefully. "Oh."

"This'll keep us going for the rest of the trip though," his mother continued, stroking his windblown hair absently. "I'll get a fire going. It'll do us good to have a hot meal after yesterday."

Hiccup felt his cheeks heat at the casual affection. "Uh, is Dad up? I mean, _awake,_ awake, oh _gods…_ I uh, kinda need to see his map."

Val laughed at his mortified expression. "He's already poring over it. Over there," she nodded back to the dry boulder by the river, and sure enough the shaggy shape of his father could be seen hunched over the chart.

Hiccup gave his mother a sheepish smile, and she ruffled the hair she had just smoothed. "You'll get used to it," she said, eyes twinkling, and he looked heavenwards.

"Oh fantastic," he sighed dramatically. "I'll get used to my parents, plural, having a sex life, just what I always wanted. And this day started out so well."

"You're not too big for me to swat your backside, my lad," Val scolded fondly, though her face began to redden in the exact same manner as Hiccup's always did. "Go on, go look at the map. Unless you'd prefer to help me skin these?"

Hiccup looked down at the two goats, and shook his head quickly. "Aaaaaah, I'll just let you get to that, shall I?"

"Wise decision," she said, watching in amusement as he scratched Toothless and went over to talk to his father.

"Mornin' son," Stoick raised his head and _beamed_ at Hiccup as he approached.

"Oh gods," Hiccup whimpered, and his head dropped heavily to his chest. "Sooo, Dad? Where are we, exactly?"

Stoick seemed to realise that he was making both his wife and son turn previously unknown shades of scarlet, and attempted to rein in his blinding grin. "Well, I'm pretty sure we're here, on the banks of the Mincy-yus."

"Mincius,"(2) Hiccup corrected absently. Stoick shrugged.

"Whatever. Mantua's that way. I'm thinkin' it might take us five days, perhaps even four, at the speed that dragon can fly. D'you reckon you'd be able to rig something to get Toothless on her back as well? He was a lot more tired than she was last night…" He noted Hiccup's truculent expression and said hurriedly, "only 'cause he's smaller, lad! No disrespect t' the bloody lizard, even if he does chew on my chair… He's better at bein' fast an' nimble an' those sorts of…"

"Yeah, I saw," Hiccup relented and he looked back at his friend, who was attempting to charm his mother into giving him some goat. "I dunno, Dad. Neither of them might like it."

"Well, see what you can do," Stoick said, patting Hiccup's shoulder as he pored over the map once more. "Saw you got some food in."

"Yeah," Hiccup scratched at his chin. "We'll probably get moving after it's cooked, then?"

"Aye, no sense in waiting for that treacherous snake to catch up wi' us," Stoick said, his face hardening.

"We have to get the clans together," Hiccup said in a tense voice, and Stoick nodded.

"Thinkin' like a Chief again, son," he said approvingly. "We'll send out some riders the minute we get home."

"Home," Hiccup said softly, ignoring the Chief remark. "Thor, it is going to be good to be home."

"I hear you there," Stoick patted Hiccup's shoulder again. "I hear you there."

* * *

It took them five days to reach Berk.

It would have taken only four, except the huge mountain range they crossed on the second day created its own weather. Rusalka and Toothless had an exhausting flight as the wind buffeted them towards the peaks and drove them down into the valleys. It was even more freezing in those craggy mountains and they were all chilled beyond thought when they finally made camp in the forests of Rhaetia (3). Phlegma insisted on using some of Toothless' catch in a goat stew that night to warm everyone up. They all stayed close to the fire, huddled together with their furs wrapped around them. Rusalka allowed them to lean against her and soak up the heat of her internal fires, and Toothless collapsed in a tired heap in front of them, blocking the wind.

The third day, Hiccup tried to see if Rusalka would consent to carrying Toothless – and if he would consent to be carried. He seemed offended at the very idea, and turned his nose up haughtily when Hiccup showed him the hammock to be strung between Rusalka's forelegs and over her neck. Rusalka, for her part, seemed to be a little smitten by the smaller black dragon and cooed like a thunderstorm at him every time he came near. Eventually Hiccup managed to convince the Night Fury to suffer the indignity, but only because he was worn out from constant long-distance flight. He did look slightly absurd in the hammock, curled like a cat with his head poking over the ropes and his body sinking under its weight to become a jumble of limbs and wings. Hiccup stifled his laughs for his friend's sake, but Gobber wasn't so kind. He howled out loud when he saw it, slapping his knees and holding his sides, until a disgruntled Toothless spat a mini-firebolt in front of his feet to shut him up. No one laughed after that.

Hiccup was amazed at how big the world was. It was different to seeing it from the deck of a ship – often it had just been the shore and the aching expanse of the ocean. But from Rusalka's back, forests skimmed past in a matter of hours and cities and towns were a busy blip in the wild, rushing landscape. He tried to make note of everything he saw, but knew he'd never be able to recall it all. He'd be drawing it all for years, he knew that much.

Astrid seemed grateful to be able to cease flying Toothless and hold onto Hiccup's waist as he directed Rusalka. She was acutely aware that she wasn't a natural at working Toothless' tailfin, and she was growing more easily tired as she neared the sixth month of her pregnancy. She was still a trifle overprotective at times as well and disliked having him too far away – besides, with the occasional nap attack, it suited her to be able to doze against Hiccup's shoulder. Hiccup was sort of fond of the idea himself.

Stoick spent most of the trip either studying the map and yelling out directions for Hiccup, or murmuring to Valhallarama and stroking back her white-streaked auburn hair. The younger adults on Rusalka's back soon got used to the sight, but Hiccup wasn't sure he was able to. He _loved_ it, of course… it was simply new and strange for him to see his _parents_ where once it had just been his dad.

Also, ew.

Tuffnut, Snotlout, Gobber and Hensteeth had devised a sort of game to pass the time. You had to guess what the person was thinking about, and you had up to five questions each. Snotlout was dreadful at it, as he was invariably thinking about 'chicks', 'other chicks' or 'something to do with chicks'. Astrid had given him a sardonic look, and he'd at least changed his nomenclature. Hensteeth was the undisputed champion. He said so little normally and his voice was so deep and slow that his reflective and inquisitive mind came as a bit of a surprise. After he'd won six rounds in a row with such subjects as 'dragon musculature', and 'why Ymir's hair became so many different types of trees', it was far more apparent where Fishlegs got his incessant thirst for knowledge and facts.

Fishlegs himself wasn't saying much. He spent the final two days holding onto Ruffnut as she buried herself further and further under his thick bearskin cloak. His thick arms gradually enclosed her as the days grew shorter and colder. Hiccup was reminded that he'd missed the whole summer in Berk, and there were less than two months until winter really fell. Ruffnut didn't seem to be too upset about needing the extra body warmth. Her agile face was set into lines of extreme satisfaction.

Phlegma and Spitelout brought up the rear of the long rope saddle, and busied themselves with organising the supplies, camp-rolls and sacks bound to Rusalka's back. Spitelout had begun to whittle a stick using his dirk, and it was emerging as a Roman legionnaire with crested helmet and round shield. It was a good thing it was far too small for Rusalka to focus on with her poor eyesight. Phlegma sent the water skin along the line at least five times a day for everyone to wet their cold-parched throats - with specific instructions to be passed to Astrid to 'drink up or else!' Astrid grumbled, but always did. Phlegma would also send goat-meat along the line for people to gnaw on. Hiccup was a bit tired of the taste of goat.

It was liberating when they finally saw the lands of the Vindili (4) come to an end and the stormy grey sea of his childhood began to skim under Rusalka's wings. Hiccup grinned back at Astrid victoriously, and she smiled back, rubbing his shoulder.

"Almost home," she said in his ear, the bitingly cold wind stealing her words away.

He put his hand over hers on his shoulder, and squeezed. "Almost home," he repeated.

"Swing left a bit, Hiccup, we're almost there!" Stoick roared above the wailing wind. "Couple hours, tops!"

"Almost home!" Hiccup yelled, and a chorus of weary shouts and cheers rose from Rusalka's passengers. He could hear an irritated warble from somewhere below Rusalka's chin, and reminded himself to take Toothless flying every day for a week to make it up to him.

He leaned back to grin at his father, and was taken aback at the sight of his mother. Her hands were pressed to her mouth, and she was staring at the gulls far below. The colour of the sea, the icy tang of the air, the shape of the coast – Hiccup had almost forgotten what these things would mean to the woman who hadn't seen them in fifteen years. Stoick had his arms wrapped around Valhallarama's shoulders, and he was talking quietly with his head leaning against hers. She nodded, her eyes sliding shut, and Stoick glanced up to meet his son's worried eyes.

"She'll be fine," he mouthed. Hiccup smiled a bit and turned back to the ocean.

It was almost anticlimactic when Berk rolled into view just as the sun was setting. Hiccup's eyes were tired, and his gaze slid over it at least twice before his heart caught in his mouth. "Oh gods," he breathed.

Astrid, roused by the sudden tenseness of his body, woke from where she'd been leaning against him. "Mmm?" she managed, and then followed his line of sight to the little island with its stone sentinels, rocky screes and huddled lodges. The dragon's huge feeding bowl in the centre of the village caught the sun, and he could make out shapes moving over it.

"It's feeding time, look," he said breathlessly.

"We're actually home," Astrid said blankly, and then she threw her hands in the air. "We did it!"

"Huh?" Fishlegs looked up from his perusal of the 'totally cool' scar on Ruffnut's forearm. "Whoa, guys, guys, look! We're home! We made it!"

Hiccup laughed even as his friends and family began to cheer in earnest, their calls echoing through the roof of the world. He threw his hands up with Astrid, tipping his head back and letting out a huge shout of exultation. It was taken over by other voices as he turned and kissed Astrid soundly before taking the reins once more and leaning over onto Rusalka's skull.

"That's the one we want, girl!" he yelled, and she gave a thunderous croon as her body began to arch into a dive once more. Home, home, home, sang the beat of his heart as she neared the little village, his birthplace, the island with its nooks and crannies and cliffs that he knew so well.

People and dragons began to run out of the buildings, more dragons lifting their heads from the feeding bowl and squawking in alarm. Weapons began to appear in hands and helmets were crammed on heads as the village of Berk prepared to deal with the enormous intruder. Several of the smaller Vikings leapt a-dragonback and began to climb into the afternoon sky. Hiccup recognised Hardnut Thorston, Ruff and Tuff's scowly little sister, riding a bullish gronkle. He waved his arms exuberantly as the Berk dragons approached. "Hardnut!" he shouted. "Hardnut, it's us! It's us!"

Her usual pugnacious frown melted into an expression of shock, and her gasp was clearly audible over the roaring wind as they continued to descend. "THEY'RE BACK!" she screamed to her fellows, who all reined in their dragons in shock and confusion. "IT'S RUFFY AND TUFFY AND THE CHIEF – THEY'RE ALL BACK!"

Hiccup whooped as the smaller dragons began to skim over Rusalka's broad back in aerial displays of welcome. The ground rushed up faster and faster, and Rusalka's wings tilted back to get as much air buoyancy under them as possible as she prepared her landing. People scrambled for the shelter of buildings again as her giant shadow enveloped the main square beside the feeding bowl, and dragons backwinged in alarm at the mammoth newcomer. She alighted almost daintily, and the subterranean tremor as her forepaws hit the earth was a less-than-subtle reminder of her vastness.

The smaller dragons and their riders then zipped into the square, Hardnut still shouting and calling at the top of her small lungs. "EVERYONE, THEY'RE BACK! THEY'RE BACK!"

"Call this a welcome?" Stoick roared, and heads poked out of houses once more to behold their Chief standing on top of the huge beast – and there, holding its reins, was _Hiccup_, and there was… a woman…

"No…" said the Elder slowly, and Hiccup grinned madly back at Astrid.

"Mum's about to take all the pressure off you," he said cheerfully, and she rolled her eyes.

"And _you_," she answered archly. "After all, this whole vacation was about getting you back."

"Remind me never to let you make holiday plans," he said dryly, before kissing her again. "But let's not go anywhere for a long, long time."

"Deal," she grinned back. "Ready?"

He scratched Rusalka's head fondly. "Am I _ever_."

He waited as usual for the others to make their safe journey to the ground, before rubbing Rusalka's head gently. "Seems you're mostly over what I did, huh?" he said softly. "Maybe you're always going to hate Romans and Legionnaires, but they're in short supply up here, so you should be okay. Thanks, girl. Thank you for everything."

Valhallarama was hugged within an inch of her life by her sister, Valdisa Jorgenson, Snotlout's mother. Her old friends and comrades crowded around, and a tearful reunion was in progress between her and Gerda Hofferson. They had been best friends from childhood. "Oh, Val!" Gerda choked, holding her tight. "Oh, you look… oh, I'm so old now, and our _kids_, they... just like we... oh Val… you, I thought you…"

"Gerda, oh Gerdie, shhh," Val said, though her eyes were also glassy and she held just as tightly to her friend. "I'm home, Hiccup found me and I'm home, I never thought I'd see you again, and gods above, you look wonderful, woman, shut up, I'm the one who's grey…"

Some distance away, Bloodnut Thorston was openly bawling and hugging her twins as her younger children clung to their legs. Hensteeth and Fishlegs were being kissed to death by Birdthumb Ingerman. Other reunions were taking place all over the square, and Gobber's hand and hook could be seen gesticulating wildly as he made up some tall tale or another about what had befallen them on their voyage.

"_Both_ our mums are being embarrassing," Astrid informed Hiccup as he slid down Rusalka's guide rope. He rolled his eyes, and then untied the humiliated Toothless, and directed both dragons towards the feeding bowl. A Terror who had been picking at the catch gawked in frozen fear as the giant dragon descended on the bowl, and with a high-pitched squeak it flew into the arms of a blond boy who was running full-tilt towards them.

"Astrid!" he howled. "No fair! No fair, Astrid! You had an adventure without me, I'm gonna tell… whoa, you got _fat_."

Astrid gave Hiccup a resigned look. "Here we go," she said ruefully.

"Uh, hey Ainid," Hiccup said to the thirteen year old prospective uncle. "Long time no see?"

Ainid let his Terror, Spickle, crawl up his shoulder and chirp aggressively at them. "Hey Hiccup," Ainid said with the dismissal of a boy who found his big sister's nerdy husband unspeakably _boring_, even if he did have a cool metal foot and an awesome dragon. "So where did you go… and what did you _eat?_" Ainid returned his focus to Astrid and pulled a face at her new girth.

"Well…" Astrid couldn't believe her brother was being so dense. He lived in a village with a _lambing season_. Perhaps it was the whole sibling thing. "It's not exactly…"

"Where's Astrid and my son-in law, then? Astrid…? _ASTRID GERDASDOTTIR HADDOCK!_"

"Uh oh," Astrid closed her eyes.

"Um," said Hiccup, "nonononono, you have to protect me, you have to protect me, _she's your mother_, you have to protect me!"

"Every man for himself," she said, eyes still closed as her mother descended down the hill like the wrath of Gjalp. "Tell me when it's over."

"Astrid, I can't believe you! Look at you, you're… you…" Gerda Hofferson's face was mottled in fright and fury and worry as she grabbed Astrid's shoulders. "How long have you known? Did you know when you set sail?"

Astrid opened her eyes and regarded her mother calmly. "Yes," she said evenly.

Gerda's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, as she searched for words to express herself.

"Mum," Astrid took her mother's shoulders in return and pulled her into a hug. "Mum, I'm sorry, but I had to, I just had to."

Gerda's arms clasped tightly around her daughter. "Oh, Astrid, you little _fool_," she gasped. "I could have lost you, we could have lost you _both_, if you _ever_ do _anything_ like that again I will tan your hide until you can see daylight through it!"

"Phlegma said you'd say that," Astrid said weakly.

"Phlegma has the sense she was born with!" Gerda snapped, but her embrace never faltered. "Frigga above, Astrid, don't you even care that you could have _died_? That you _still_ could? It's not some _game_, Astrid, or some silly competition or a test! I have no idea what you've been eating – do you even know how far along you are? If the baby's alive?"

"The baby's alive," Astrid said quietly and pulled back to see her mother's ravaged face. "The quickening was over three weeks ago. And I'm almost six months along."

"I'm gonna be an uncle?" Ainid said in dawning horror. Hiccup ruffled his blond hair.

"Yeah," he said, his lips quirking. "So get your worst jokes ready. That's an uncle's duty."

"_Gross,_" Ainid opined, before he schooled his expression. "Uh, I mean, _cool_. And… congratulations and all that, yeah."

"Thank you for that rousing endorsement," Hiccup said, shaking his head, before he was abruptly yanked into Gerda's embrace as well. He wasn't quite able to stop his strangled yelp of surprise, and he thought he heard his father's chuckle from behind him.

"Dad, save me," he gasped as Gerda's battle-hardened arms clamped around him.

"And you, you skinny little twerp, what do you think you were doing, getting _kidnapped_ like some common or garden idiot, Gods help me, what am I going to do with the pair of you, you're going to send me straight to my barrow, I swear…" Gerda rattled as she held them both close. "First Astrid and her daredevil ways and her total inability to care about her own skin, 'oh no mum, it's only a scratch' and _now_ she flies off into only the Gods know where _pregnant_ and doesn't tell a soul, and then Ainid and his obsessions with adventure this and flying that and 'can I have a bigger dragon mum' and now _you_, you mad fishbone with your mad ideas and your mad dragon and your mad madness, and I can snap you in half, Hiccup, there's nothing of you left, not that there was before and OH how in Freya's name am I going to cope with _another _one of you and _Odin help you if you ever do it again_ because I promise you he's the only one capable of stopping me from skinning you both alive!"

She broke off, her eyes blazing, and then she tightened her embrace with a hitched breath. "Oh, I'm so glad you're safe," she said softly, before kissing them both soundly on the cheek. "Now, Astrid, tell me _everything _about my grandchild."

Hiccup rocked back out of Gerda's arms feeling dazed and out of breath. "You all right there, son?" Stoick said, laughing at him even as he steadied him on his feet.

"Do we even need dragons to fight the Romans?" Hiccup said dizzily. "We could just point Gerda at them and get her to tell them off."

Val laughed and smoothed his ruffled hair. "Come on, my boys, let's leave them to it," she said, her eyes shiny and bright as she looked around her village. "I think it's about time I went home, don't you?"

* * *

(1) Northern Apennines (Latin: Apenninus Mons)  
(2) Mincio River  
(3) Modern-day eastern and central Switzerland, southern Bavaria, most of Tyrol and part of Lombardy.  
(4) The Vandals (yes, really, it's where the word comes from!), a Northern Germanic tribe on the coast of the Baltic Sea (Latin: Codanus Sinus).

_For reference, I am assuming that the island upon which Berk is situated is one of the 90,000 in the Scandinavian Archipelago, in the Baltic Sea._

* * *

_This link? The 'Review this chapter' one?_

l

l

v

_It caaaallls to you..._


	23. Chapter 23

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

**The Incredible Puba: **Thanks, glad you enjoyed! **Clockwork Mockingbird: **Hee! Go Stoick, you tap that! LOL. I love Gerda! She's probably my favourite OC, she's just so _intense_ about everything! Thank you, dearest Mockingbird! **Story master: **My pleasure, you and slicer look after each other! **Ooshie: **Oh, thank you so much! I love my history - researching this has been a joy! **childofthestorm: **Hurrah for embarrassed!Hiccup! So much FUN to write that! Well, I can imaging that the Vikings didn't blush all that much, either, but certainly Hiccup (and Fishlegs!) do... so I wrote Val as having that same capacity - in certain circumstances, of course *g* I love Gerda. I LUFF her. Thank you so much XD **Miseria Veritas:** Welcome back - and thank you so very much! Aw, Rusalka - giant abused puppy dog, she is. *pats* **Romance and Musicals: **Aw, thanks! I was also fond of the Hiccup-Toothless bonding scenes in the film, and it was SO much fun to get Toothless to tease Hiccup once more, the sappy thing ;) A lambing season occurs wherever people keep goats or sheep - basically, spring. The ewes all have their lambs at that point. No kid who lives in a sheep-town is ignorant about where babies come from *g* **Ze Great Camicazi: **Thank you! It _is_ very Awww! **MarkoRailo: **Wow, thank you! So happy you enjoyed 'Talking' - agreed, it's a lot lighter than this one! And I'm utterly stoked you're enjoying where I've gone with the characters - thank you, thank you, thank you! **Negra: **FINALLY HOME WOOT. Thank you, dearest Negra! I agree, it was crying out for some Hiccup-Toothless bonding time at that point! He doesn't say much, so he can sometimes get buried under all that dialogue, poor dragon. And Rusalka having a crush on him was my favourite bit, really - she would have been _overjoyed_ to carry him about *g* **Leon Woon: **Hooray, no mix-ups, pirates, shipwrecks or hold-ups! Home at last! I guess if you're on a dragon the size of an Airbus for six to ten hours a day, you'd _have _to find something to do or go bonkers. They're being very creative! Hee, Gerda! I do love her! Thank you! **Voldyne: **Lol, maybe it'll call next time, either way I always appreciate your reviews so very much! Thank you! And Gerda's not really blaming Hiccup, per se, that scolding's coming out of sheer worry and relief, the way a parent does - times a _million. _Because they've been away for ages, and she was worried _sick, _and also because that's just Gerda ;D **darkmaster7987: **Thank you so very much! Yay, home again - and they've got a little time to prepare for Alvin. He'll have something up his sleeve, no doubt - but so do our guys this time. A _massive freakin' dragon. _Yeah, fightback times! **Shayna7767: **Thank you so much! Glad I surprised you a time or two *g* and definitely time to kick Roman Arse! **Strider714: **Hey Strider! 'Negotiation training' - well, Gobber had a word or two to say, but really there wasn't any time to comment further. Hiccup had to get on with it, and his dad even barked at him to do so, even before they'd found out that Val had been put in with the Noxii. The Rufflegs 'talk' happened offscreen in chapter 16 - sorreeeee! It's mentioned as having occurred, but as we're in Astrid's POV we didn't get to hear it. Phlegma did, though *g* There is to be a _lot _more Rufflegs later, promise! Thank you, and hey, not to worry!

Home again, home again, jiggetty jig..

* * *

Astrid could feel her breath coming faster as they made their way up the hill. She was so tired after the long days of flight and then her mother's emotional maelstrom. The baby was awake and pressing against her lungs, making her short of breath. Hiccup hadn't said a word as he took her arm and began to slow his pace, and she was grateful. She didn't have the energy to punch him if he mentioned it.

The Haddock lodge was as cold and dark as it had been that afternoon when Hiccup and Stoick had coaxed Toothless from the ship to his hibernation all those months ago. She shivered as Stoick threw some dusty logs into the fireplace and began to strike the tinder. Valhallarama moved as if in a daze around the room, her fingers hovering over the furniture. Astrid felt her heart reach out to the woman.

"Different?" she asked, moving over to her stunned mother-in-law and slipping her arm around her waist.

Val let out a gusty sigh, and put her arm around Astrid in return. "Yes."

"Mum?" Hiccup ventured with a touch of worry in his eyes. Val squeezed Astrid once, reassuringly.

"I'm fine," she said bluntly. "It's fine, really. It's just that it's all different. I'll get used to it."

"How was it, then?" Hiccup asked.

"The benches were against the walls so that you wouldn't bump your head," said Stoick quietly. "You ran too fast and didn't always look where you were goin'."

"Oh," Hiccup looked at the benches around the fire.

"I couldn't leave things on the table like this," Val said distantly, her fingers brushing a figurine of a woman carrying a cup. "It'd be on the floor and broken in a minute, or you'd pull it apart to see how it worked."

"He hasn't grown out of that one," Stoick stood as the logs caught, walking over behind his wife and resting his hands on her shoulders.

"You should probably get some rest," Val said, shaking off her mood and turning to Astrid, who was still in the curve of her arm. "I suppose you're in the main bedchamber now?"

"Uh," said Hiccup, smiling a little. "Nope. We're upstairs."

"The loft?" Val looked surprised. "It'd be freezing!"

"Hiccup did somethin', back when he was thirteen," Stoick explained. "Made a flamin' mess an' destroyed one o' the walls, but the chimney goes through there now. It's pretty warm."

"This I need to see," Val said, and made her way over to the loft stairs. Astrid hoped she hadn't left the place too messy. Then she chided herself for thinking like that.

It was dark in their loft and relatively clean. Astrid climbed up after Stoick, and was suddenly struck with the memory of those awful last days; of missing Hiccup and his noise and his careless mess and his smudged drawings on every surface. She lit one of the candles with the lamp she had brought up, and set it down on Hiccup's workbench. The warm, friendly light banished the memories even as it illuminated the large room. Their shelves, her weapons-rack, the screen and their pallet, and the little nook with its bearskin-covered couches greeted her. "Home," she half-smiled.

"Gods," Val said, wide-eyed. "It's…"

Hiccup closed the trap after him, and beamed shyly at his mother. She smoothed his hair a bit wonderingly.

"You shoulda heard the racket he made for three days straight," Stoick folded his arms and shook his head.

"It was before our wedding," Astrid said, and winced as the baby rolled over onto a nerve cluster. A sharp pain lanced down her side, and she sucked in a breath.

"Are you okay?" Hiccup was immediately at her side, and the comforting click-thump of his footsteps on their wooden floor was a balm to her soul.

"It's rolled over all wrong," she tried to explain. "It hurts."

"Turn around," Hiccup ordered, and his fingers began to rub at her back in accordance with her directions. She hissed as the extra stimulation caused her back to cramp, but he soon massaged the pain out. "Stop it, kiddo," he murmured as he rubbed. "Stop giving your mum a hard time."

She soon relaxed under his ministrations and he finished up with a quick kiss to her neck and a short hug. Then she realised that both Stoick and Val were watching them, arm in arm, with identical soft expressions on their faces.

"Hiccup," she said in an undertone.

"Yeah, I know," he whispered back. "Just… pretend they're not watching, or something. Do you want to lie down?"

She did – but she also wanted to see Spike. "I guess," she sighed.

"Go on," Hiccup urged, and it didn't take much to get her on their bed. She felt like she could sleep for a week. Her mother had really worn her out with her remonstrations and her fussing, and it had been something of a relief when she had rushed off in high dudgeon to get all the baby-things she still had in the house together. Knowing her, she'd probably bully all her neighbour-ladies into giving her their bits and bobs as well.

"Spike," she objected, but it was weak and she knew it.

"I'll bring her up," Hiccup promised. "You rest. I'll get us some food in an hour."

"Not goat," she mumbled, and he grinned crookedly, pulling off her boots and pushing back her headcloth.

"I promise," he said solemnly. "Not goat."

He kissed her softly, before walking as quietly towards the trap as possible, shooing his parents before him. Astrid, slipping into a muzzy doze, vaguely saw Valhallarama pull him close and hug him tightly before he wriggled free in embarrassment and ushered her down the stairs.

When she woke, there was a pair of dragons watching her avidly. Toothless was sitting on his customary rug, looking for all the world as though he'd never gone away. And Spike, her lovely blue sweetie, had her head resting on the edge of their pallet, her eyes filled with adoration.

"Spike," she murmured, and reached out her hand to her friend. The Nadder pushed her beaklike face against that hand, whickering with joy and welcome. Astrid sat up awkwardly and pulled Spike closer into a true embrace. She purred and whuffled along Astrid's head, before folding a wing around her tightly. "Oh, Spike, my lovely girl, I missed you…" she breathed against the iridescent blue scales.

"She's been staying with your mum," Hiccup's voice floated from the stairwell, and his head appeared, before he carefully placed a tray on the floor and hoisted himself through the trap. "I don't think your mum pays quite as much attention to keeping her clean as you do. I had to rub her down before she'd even let me lead her inside."

"That true, sweetie?" Astrid rubbed at Spike's head, which tilted, birdlike, as the Nadder chirped in apology. "Oh, girl, you know that doesn't matter to me… I'll love you anyway, even if your scales get a bit dull…"

Spike chirruped in dignified affront, and nosed at Astrid's hair fondly. Then the Nadder craned over to nudge Astrid's belly, and she laughed.

"Bit bigger than you remember, I know," she said fondly. "Trust you to worry about how it looks more than anything."

Spike cocked her head again, and purled a question, and Astrid scratched at the sleek scales. "Yes, you'll have someone else to groom obsessively soon. Well, after you wake up. You pair are going to be asleep again when I…" she broke off. The whole idea of _giving birth_ had been looming ever since she'd discovered she was pregnant. Women and children _died_ in childbirth. Her hands tightened on Spike's smooth, clean scales.

Toothless sat bolt upright with a rumble of denial as Hiccup brought over the tray. "No way, bud," Hiccup said adamantly. "Look what almost happened to you last time. You're going to sleep on time this year. You can meet the baby when you wake up."

Toothless ignored him loftily, flicking his ears back, and Spike pressed her beak against Astrid lovingly as Hiccup sat down on the bed and put the tray at her feet. "Spike, she's gonna need to eat sometime," he drawled.

Spike's collar of spines flickered out, and she grunted in acceptance, grudgingly settling back on the floor by the bed. Astrid rubbed her head again, before drawing up the tray. Smoked fish, some water and a small dish of preserved cabbage greeted her. She looked up at Hiccup with a raised eyebrow.

"Snotlout said I should really bring you the cabbage," Hiccup said, his mouth twitching. "Said you'd know why."

"Idiots," she huffed, but got stuck straight in anyway.

"So, there's going to be a meeting tonight in the Mead hall," Hiccup said as she ate. "We need to make plans. We don't know how long it's likely for Alvin's dragons to make it here, and we're going to get the clans of the nearby islands together. We hope. Dad sent out some riders today, anyway."

"Won't it take a while for them to get here?" Astrid asked around a mouthful of smoked fish. It was wonderful – the real taste of home. Hiccup gnawed at his lip.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Dad sent out a _lot_ of riders though, so anyone who wants to try flying back can have a go. It's a two-day flight to most places, so we're likely to have at least _some_ backup in around four days. I think we need to start a watch-rota to look out for any of Alvin's dragons as well."

"Good idea," she frowned. "We've got Rusalka, too."

"Believe me, everyone is very aware of that," he said dryly. "The littler kids are climbing all over her and sliding down her tail. I had to calm her down before she freaked out."

"She's…?" Astrid stopped, her fork halfway to her mouth, but Hiccup waved away her concern.

"She's fine. She was just weirded out. She likes it now – Hel, she _loves_ it. I think the kids are really helping her." His eyes dropped. She recognised his guilty expression, and put her fork down with a decisive click.

"Hiccup, you had to," she said firmly. "You didn't hurt her permanently, and all you really did was scare her a lot. She's fine. She's a big – a _very_ big – girl. Stop beating yourself up about it."

He sighed, and rubbed her knee. "I know," he said, but the light in his eyes wasn't quite acceptance.

Astrid poked his arm, and he chuckled reluctantly, poking her back. She brightened at this evidence of humour, and prodded him again, squirming her finger under his arm to make him laugh. It degenerated into a fit of giggles as they traded pokes back and forth just as they used to, until eventually Hiccup was lying flushed and red-faced on the bed and Astrid was flopped back in the cushions, breathing hard, her face pulled into a silly grin.

Hiccup breathed out the last of his laughter and rolled over to her, shoving her tray along the furs, and laying his head in her lap. She threaded her hand through his hair. "Better?" she asked.

"Mmm," was the emphatic reply, and he nuzzled against her belly, eyes closed. Then he jerked back as the dome gave a slight lurch. "What…?"

She looked down incredulously as it happened once more, and ventured, "I think… I think the baby has the hiccups."

Hiccup looked up at her with 'you _what?_' written all over his face.

She snickered.

* * *

The Mead Hall was packed to the gills.

Stoick stood from his chair and pounded his tankard on the table for silence. As most of the villagers were still exclaiming over Hiccup, Valhallarama or Astrid, it took a while for them to calm down and give him their full attention. Hiccup stifled a sigh of relief as the Elder finished fussing over how thin he'd become and turned to Stoick. He was quite fond of the old Gothi, but she could be stifling. It was preferable to Gerda's incessant mix of hovering and scolding, however – Hiccup didn't think she'd let go of her daughter's arm since stepping through the door.

"Shut yer faces!" Gobber eventually roared, and the crowd settled down with a few muttered comments in Gobber's direction. Stoick shared a look with his battle-brother, and cleared his throat.

"I'm sure you all want to know what happened," he started.

"Yeah!" came the call from a few quarters, and Stoick scowled.

"An' we're gonna go through that tonight, aye," he concluded snippily, and Hiccup groaned. Great. "But we need to make some plans. We ended up in Rome, an'-"

There was an outbreak of shouting as the villagers began to vie for attention.

"Rome, why'd you end up there?"

"No wonder ye took so dang long!"

"What plans? You tellin' us we're about to fight the bloody Roman army, ye daft bugger?"

"Bring it on!"

"Silence!" Stoick bellowed, and the shouting petered out. "Aye, we're to fight Romans. But not the Roman army, no. It's a long story, an' we'd best get to it, but the meat of the matter is this: the man who stole Hiccup tricked him out of the dragon-training knowledge, an' is makin' his way here with who knows how many dragons to level the place."

"That's what _he_ thinks!" growled Gerda, and Stoick gave her a curt nod.

"We're goin' to make sure he's disappointed," Stoick said grimly. "That's why we sent out all them riders this afternoon. They're goin' to Phlock, Sleet, Freezing-To-Death an' Brass Monkey. We're gettin' the nearest clans here for a bit o' assistance."

"We don't need their help!" came a drunken shout from the direction of Bob the Sled (1), and Spitelout rolled his eyes.

"We don't know how many dragons they have," he pointed out.

"We've got that giant beastie out the front there!" Bob said, lurching and thrusting his chin out. Hiccup stood.

"She's big, but she's nervous," he said bluntly. "We can't hang everything on Rusalka. It's better to have other options as well."

Bob peered at him myopically. "Boy, where's the rest of you?" he asked in a puzzled way, and Hiccup gritted his teeth in irritation.

"Astrid's got it," sniggered Snotlout – who ducked when he saw Valdisa's hand raise threateningly.

"Right, so these other options," Stoick clapped his hands together after an approving look at Hiccup. "I'm thinkin' we need some sort of warnin' system."

"We've still got the emergency beacons from the old days," Hiccup said thoughtfully. "And I think we should set up a rota for watching the horizons for Alvin's dragons. We can get the Terrors involved. They're quiet and quick, and they'll make perfect runners."

"Aye, good idea," Stoick's hand landed on his shoulder.

"How do we tell the difference between them and our dragons coming back from Phlock or whatever?" asked Phlegma, and Hiccup shrugged.

"They'll be different kinds. You won't have seen them before. Roman dragons aren't like Gronkles or Zipplebacks or Nadders. I only saw a few kinds, but they didn't really look like ours at all. There was one that looked a bit like a Nightmare, but she was longer and her wings were different."

"Hmm," Phlegma settled back, a small from creasing her forehead.

Hiccup pursed his lips as he thought. "I think we should try and keep the village as dark as possible at night," he mused.

"What good will that do?" Gobber said, folding his arms, his eyebrow quirked expectantly. He was familiar enough with Hiccup's ideas to know something about their execution.

"Well, it'll help our night-watchers," Hiccup began to explain, his hands moving. "Without torchlight, their night-vision will be far better. And it might give us a few minutes if the attackers can't see exactly where we are at first. Their dragons will be able to spot us eventually, but those few minutes could be important."

"Aye," Gobber nodded. "Always nice to give a man the opportunity t' change his hand before a fight."

Hiccup snorted. "Right."

"So, we work out a rota," Stoick tugged at his beard as he thought. "I'll post it on the Mead hall door tomorrow mornin'. Defence wise, any ideas?"

Hiccup blew out a breath. "A few…" and then he realised that every eye in the hall was on him. They were all _listening respectfully_.

"Uh," he said, unnerved.

"Keep going!" Astrid hissed, and her fingers laced through his reassuringly. He smiled down at her nervously.

"Yeah," he hedged, before he cleared his throat and tried to find his previous tone of voice. "Right, uh, so… I think we should keep the fight as far from the village as possible. There's going to be fire involved. Some of our houses have been up for a record four years, and I don't think anyone's missed rebuilding all that much."

An amused chuckle rose from the room, and Hiccup relaxed his death-grip on Astrid's hand.

"So, that means drawing them away from the village onto another part of the island, or keeping it in the air." Hiccup concluded. "I think we should try for both. Their dragons'll be tired, so flying in battle is going to be hard on them. We keep Rusalka as hidden as possible, and bring her out when we've herded them where we want them to be. I haven't figured out where that could be just yet," he squinted up at his father.

"Troll Valley," Gobber said decisively, and several other warriors nodded. "Big enough to hide that beastie, an' a nice blind valley to trap our friends in. They won't have a choice but surrender."

"Troll Valley," Hiccup nodded. "Yeah, that'll work."

"What about all those wi'out a dragon?" asked Spitelout, and Hiccup hmm'd in thought.

"Catapults and bolas," Astrid said, squeezing Hiccup's hand. "We'll build them over the next few days, and get them positioned to protect the village. If any dragon not ours comes near, we pelt 'em."

"And we're going to need them along Troll Valley too," Hiccup added. "Along the top of the gorge would be best. That way we can funnel them in and stop them from flying out."

"Your boy's good at this, Stoick, why didn't you ever say?" complained Bob the Sled.

"It's news to me, too," Stoick said bemusedly, though pride infused his whole face.

"I don't think we should hurt the dragons, though," Hiccup said warningly. "It's not their fault they were dragged into this. The minute they're in the gorge, we separate them from their rider and either let them go or feed them or heal them."

"So not totally different," said Bob in a disappointed way. Then he shrugged. "Oh well."

"How about their riders?" Tuff wanted to know, and Hiccup felt his mouth stretch in a humourless grin.

"That's a different story," he said grimly. "And if you find a guy with brown hair and a half-healed burn on the side of his face? That one's mine."

"Unless I get to him first," Stoick growled.

"Or me," snarled Astrid.

"Or me," grated Valhallarama.

"No," Hiccup said in a voice he barely recognised. It was cold as Jotunheim, icier than death. It frightened him. "He's _mine_."

"You don't mind if we rough him up a little for you though, do you son?" Stoick said with a shark's grin. Hiccup grinned back tightly.

"Well, I do like making you guys happy," he replied, and Astrid laughed low and deadly.

"Okay, I never thought I'd be scared of Hiccup and right now I'm kind of scared of him and that's really weird because it's being scared of _Hiccup_," Tuffnut said in a high, tense voice.

"You know what that man did to him, Tuff," Ruff hissed.

"I believe the story should be told now," the Gothi piped up firmly in her cracked, quavering old-woman voice, and Hiccup sat down with a sudden thump as his rage left him drained.

"Can someone else tell it this time?" he said plaintively, but Val pushed him back up to his feet.

"You'd interrupt forever because they wouldn't get it right," Astrid said fondly. "Go on, get talking."

"You have to tell your bits too," he said desperately and hauled her to her feet as well.

"Stoick can do that," she protested, but relented when she met his pleading eyes. "All right, Stoick _and I_ can do that."

"Thanks," he said and brought her hand up for a quick kiss, before squaring his shoulders and looking around at his fellow villagers, his people.

"I really missed you guys," he blurted, surprising himself.

"Get on wi' it, fishbone," snorted Bob the Sled, only to be thwacked in the back of the head by Gerda.

"We missed you, you skinny little twerp," she said mistily. "Tell the story now."

Hiccup smiled faintly at his fierce mother-in-law, and swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing.

"Well, Dad's probably already told you all about the Phlock Dragon Convocation, and the drugged beer," Hiccup began. "The guy who drugged the beer was a Viking, a guy called Alvin the Treacherous. He was going under the name 'Alberich' – which when you think about it was one Hel of a giveaway. I mean, Alberich was a treacherous dwarf, right?

"He arranged to be imprisoned with me in the pirate ship he paid to take us south. He gained my trust – and I really thought we were friends. He seemed a lot like me. But all he wanted was the knowledge of how to train dragons. That's all.

"He'd even arranged for _another_ pirate ship – posing as a 'merchantman' – to attack and sink the original one and steal all their cargo. He's a very smart guy. But not smart enough to stop the weather, so eventually I figured out we were going south, not north-east, due to the longer, warmer days. He locked me up in the hold again for months and months, and when we got to Rome, he sold me as a slave to a guy called Balbus… and I..." he trailed off.

"We met those pirates," Astrid interrupted. "The first lot ambushed us on an island. They told us that Hiccup had forced Alvin to let them live, and that Alvin wasn't who Stoick thought he was. The only direction we got out of him was 'Ostia.' None of us knew where _that_ was, but we found out when we stopped in Hispania. Ostia's the nearest port to Rome."

Hiccup gave her a grateful look. "Uh, well, I was a slave. They put me in the Octavian Amphitheatre, and I met a guy called the Briton and a very scary lady called Nemesis," he grinned over at his mother, who gave him a tight smile. "The games – they watch people fight and kill each other and animals and all sorts over there. It's…" Hiccup swallowed again. "It's awful. They made me into a bestiarius, which is an animal fighter. I didn't have to fight any of them though, because the first thing they threw at me was a dragon."

He scratched his chin. "I hope those guys are doing okay."

"Stick to the story," Astrid hissed, and he held up his hands defensively.

"Okay, okay… Um. Well, the crowd liked it when I tamed them. It was new and different. The Emperor's son especially loved it, and I saluted him every time I went into the arena. He's a good kid. Anyway, after a week my friend the Briton gets his freedom – oh and I find out he's a _king_ - and I go out there and spot Alvin in the crowd. I get madder than I've ever been in my life, and I get one of the dragons to burn his face. I would have killed him, I think," he said in a sickened sort of voice.

"Good," said Valhallarama darkly, and the sentiment was echoed fiercely all around the chamber.

"So I've disrupted the games, and I have to be punished…" Hiccup looked over at his mother helplessly and she stood, her arm slipping over his shoulders as a tense silence fell over the hall.

"He's made to fight the Gladiatrix Nemesis," she said softly. "She asks his name so that she can take his story back to her homelands, the place she left fifteen years ago. He eventually tells her, and she cries, because he is her little boy and she's just put a hole in his side."

"Mum," Hiccup said quietly, and hugged her close. "It's okay. I'm almost better now."

"You're so, so much better," she agreed and kissed his forehead, before raising her voice once more. "It was to be my last fight, and I was to gain my freedom. I gave it to him."

"Man, did I feel guilty," Hiccup added.

"You shouldn't have," Val admonished, and he shrugged one shoulder awkwardly.

To cover the moment, Astrid stepped back in. "Well, we made it around the horn of Hispania, but as we made it through the Fretum Herculaneum, the other pirate ship decided to bear down on us. I flew Toothless and he fired it down to the sea-line," she said in satisfaction, and several cheers arose at that pronouncement. "Then we got Balbus the slaver's name out of Regin before I killed him too." More cheers, and Astrid smirked.

"You are absolutely terrifying and I love you," Hiccup said, shaking his head. Valhallarama was eyeing her daughter-in-law with an impressed look on her face.

"Everythin' was on track until we hit a storm off the coast of Italia," Stoick rumbled. "Crashed the longship, an' Fishlegs went overboard. The dragon managed to save him, but gave him an interestin' pattern of scars to show for it. We washed up near Neapolis, an' went horse-stealin'."

"Good old fashioned Vikingery," nodded the Gothi wisely, and Gobber crowed in vindication.

"Y'see?" he said triumphantly.

"So, well, after the fight I was pretty out of it," Hiccup picked up his tale. "I got taken back to Balbus' house, where the Emperor's doctor tended to me. I got my foot fixed by their smith," he glanced down at the bright brass. "He's _really_ good. But then Alvin bashed me over the head and took me to these… well…"

"They were like, underground caverns," Ruffnut put in, and Snotlout nodded.

"Dude, _so_ big and cold."

"Yeah," Hiccup agreed hesitantly. "They told me I had to train a special dragon or get tortured – sorry, _they_ is Alvin and Agrippina, the Empress. She's a really scary piece of work, let me tell you. It was all about her son, Nero… she's trying to make him into the next Emperor, even though he's not the Emperor's natural son. By making him a great military leader, he'd have the edge over the Emperor's children. She's obsessed, and doesn't care about anything else at all. Anyway, then they show me Rusalka, and I have to train her and kit her out and everything.

"I scare her instead. I make a sort of toga, and a sort of legionnaire's uniform, and I scare the living daylights out of her. Then I dust myself in charcoal and comfort her. So she hates Romans and loves charcoal, remember that.

"I was there for over three weeks," he continued, his heart growing heavy, "trapped in there, and my side got infected and there was hardly anything to eat. I was filthy and ragged and a mess. And then, the Emperor's son found me.

"Britannicus, his name is. He's a good kid. He likes dragons. He followed Agrippina one day from the palace, and snuck down again the next day to find out what she was up to. He's making friends with Rusalka when Alvin and Agrippina turn up again. They tell me that they're going to turn their dragons onto Berk, because it's the only other place that has them and Rome can't suffer rivals. Alvin tells me that it's really all my fault, and I'm so out of it that I believe him. Rusalka fires at his toga, and Britannicus saves me, pushing me out into the streets. He drags me to the palace where I tell Claudius, the Emperor, about it all. He offers to help me, but I'm… I was..."

"He was in the absolute depths of despair," Astrid interrupted softly. The hush that ran through the hall was almost a palpable thing. "He ran away, into the streets, and Toothless eventually found him. We brought him back to the Briton's house, and tried to get him well again. Caratacus – sorry, that's the Briton's name – brought the Emperor's doctor to us and he helped."

"Meantime, Val's tried to escape but got caught, an' is stuck with this group called the Noxy-eye," Stoick said gruffly.

"Noxii," she corrected, and Stoick grimaced.

"S'all babble to me, love," he said apologetically. "So, they're the bunch that get killed every games wi'out fail, from what Hiccup told me." The choral gasp that ensued was so loud as to resemble a gale.

"That's right," she said grimly.

"Hiccup had this idea, though," Astrid said breathlessly. "He took us all to see the Emperor, and got Britannicus to lead us to Rusalka. Then Rusalka smashed her way out of that hole and we crashed the games and Toothless and I stole Valhallarama back."

"I couldn't believe my eyes," Val added.

"Don't blame you," Hiccup said wryly.

"And then we all flew home," Stoick concluded. "An' tell you what, we are flyin' everywhere instead o' sailin' from now on. It's colder, sure, but it's faster an' there's no rowing involved."

"What happened to that slaver?" growled Gerda, and Astrid met her mother's eyes.

"I killed him," she said calmly.

"Absolutely terrifying," Hiccup said a trifle admiringly, and she slid her arm around him.

"And don't you forget it, mister," she said, holding him close. He smiled crookedly down at her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, as the Mead Hall erupted in shouts and cries of horror and disbelief and wonder.

* * *

(1) If you haven't seen any of the HTTYD shorts, you won't know who this is. Find the Dreamworks channel on Youtube, and look for the 'Dragon-Viking Games Vignettes'. You want the one for 'Bobsled', but they're all pretty funny! I also recommend 'Snowboarding'.


	24. Chapter 24

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Over **300** reviews! *faints*

**The Elven Spear: **LOL! I'll try it - but glaring at the computer has only ever given me a headache, usually *g* But thank you so much! **clockwork mockingbird: ***blush* Aw, thanks! I'm so fond of my version of Spike. Yay for fussy vain Nadders! And they had _better_ go to sleep on time this year. Stubborn Toothless! **Ze Great Camicazi: **XD Thanks! **Voldyne: **Go Bob! Oh, and I'm not giving it away - we have to wait to meet the baby *g* **Romance and Musicals: **Hiccup's being crafty with their plans. Go crafty!Hiccup! **story master: **I'm afraid (as I've mentioned before) that I don't really have the time to mentor someone, and I already have a writing partner, psychicsaphie. I'm sorry about that. But try to find someone through the 'Beta Reader' section of this site - there are lots of great people out there who would love to help you! **Negra: **They are so CUTE, aren't they? So glad you liked the recap! Aw, thank you - *blush* what a fantastic thing to hear, wow! **crouchbk: **Have some battle! I didn't actually consider that because it wasn't in psychicsaphie's plot outline... though perhaps I should have... oh well! *shrug* And yeah, I'm afraid Hiccup's hammer _is_ still back in Rome. I like the name though! He's got to forge himself a new one, after all... *g* Thanks! **Leon Woon: **BOB! Bob is _awesome._ Glad you liked the battle plans! And yeah, bit of a recap and a regroup before the can of crazy opens. Thanks! **childofthestorm: **I know, we're almost done! *cries* I'm going to miss it too... And here we go - the battle! Adult!Hiccup on the warpath (yes, along with his badass wife, mother and dad!) along with a _very_ angry Toothless! Yaay! **unnamed review: **Hiccuping babies are _hilarious. _Without exception. They are all _funny as hell. _Battle time! Aw, glad you liked my version of Spike, thank you! So close to the end now, *cries* **Strider714: **Thanks, yup, bit of a recap and a regroup before the battle - and yay for Bob! Glad you liked him cropping up *g* Eep, hope my battle-scene measures up.

Arrgh. Here we go! *nervous*

* * *

It had been a week since the contingent from Rome had returned home, and most of that time had been spent getting ready for the incipient invasion – and feeding Hiccup. It had become a village sport; no sooner had he sat down to work on one of the catapults, trebuchets or bola-cannons, than someone was forcing a plate by his elbow and telling to eat or they'd sit on him. Hiccup privately thought that if they kept this up, he'd be as big as Fishlegs by winter.

It was making a difference, though. He'd started to take on weight and gain colour, and he was able to push himself further each day. This was definitely proving to be a good thing, as their preparations needed so much of his attention. Gobber was churning out weaponry and equipment as fast as he could, but the bola-cannons and trebuchets especially were Hiccup's province of expertise.

The round-the-clock watch of the horizons had worn everyone out. Astrid and Hiccup had both taken their turns on the third and fourth nights respectively. It had been cold and miserable, and they'd both been crotchety the following afternoons once they'd awoken. Everyone was going through it at least once, and so tempers were growing snappish even for an island inhabited by dragons and Vikings. At least now each watch had a dragon accompanying them, and so keener eyes and a permanently warm body to sit against made it bearable. Despite the tiredness the following day, Hiccup hadn't minded the watch all that much. It gave him a chance to gaze at the horizon he'd grown up looking at, drinking it in and feeling that sense of connectedness. Not so long ago he thought he'd never see that view ever again.

The dragons sent out to the various villages had straggled back in, each carrying three people. The first to arrive home, mid-afternoon on the fourth day, were the dragons sent to Freezing-To-Death, and the Chief, Hangnail, was surprisingly sober for once. The big-nosed man leapt down from the Nadder that had carried him, and growled, "So where's the fight?" It had taken some fast-talking to convince him that he had to wait. It appeared that patience was not Hangnail's strong suit.

Next were the sad few from Sleet, only twenty or so warriors. Bogbrush's dragon looked to be close to keeling over under the rotund Chief's weight. The poor Gronkle actually slumped to the ground rather than landing, and its tongue lolled out of its mouth in exhaustion. Bogbrush had been delighted at everything – at Berk, at his first dragon flight, at Hiccup's safe return, at the quality of Berkian mead, at the craftsmanship going into all the defences. He flitted around like a badly tethered, extremely excited balloon.

Thundering in on the morning of the fifth day was the burly, craggy contingent from Phlock. Upchuck sat behind the Berkian driver on a Monstrous Nightmare, his taciturn face showing absolutely no surprise at all at being astride one of his natural enemies. He was as burly, blocky and blunt as ever, and immediately began to discuss offensive strategies with Stoick and Hangnail. Hangnail didn't contribute much to that discussion – he'd been ascertaining Bogbrush's claims regarding Berkian mead.

Last to arrive were the dragons sent to Brass Monkey, all fifteen charging into Berk at dusk on the sixth day. Oglaranna looked preposterous sitting astride a zippleback with her feet stuck out either side of both heads. She boomed a cheerful greeting, and the zippleback's human friend, Crosseyes Gudmunsson, looked somewhat dazed. All he said for the rest of the evening was, 'What? Speak up, I cannae hear you!'

Oglaranna was overwhelmingly, deafeningly happy for Hiccup and Astrid. "CONGRATULATIONS, CHICKEN!" she boomed effusively, shaking both their hands simultaneously. "HOPE IT'S A GREAT AND VERY PRETTY WARRIOR!"

"Uh, it'll be a baby," Hiccup said uncertainly, and Astrid pulled a face at him.

"OH PISH. I NUTTED A TERRIBLE TERROR IN MY CRADLE, DID ANYONE TELL YOU THAT?"

"No," Astrid raised an eyebrow at the monolithic woman. "Was there any _other_ permanent damage?"

Oglaranna paused, before bursting into raucous laughter that slowly lessened from a shattering boom to a dull roar. "AH, MRS HADDOCK…" she chuckled, "STILL A FIERY LITTLE THING. WELL, LESS LITTLE NOWADAYS."

"Thank you?" Hiccup said dubiously, wondering when he was going to get his hand back.

"SPEAKING OF WHICH, DREAMBOAT, I COULD USE YOU AS A SPEAR, YOU'RE THAT SKINNY. FANCY A REMATCH? YOU GOT THE JUMP ON ME LAST TIME. BET I COULD SNAP YOU IN HALF NOW!" Oglaranna nudged him, and he rocked back, winded. Astrid was about to deliver a blistering ultimatum, when she saw the grin in the corner of Oglaranna's mouth.

"Oh, ha, ha," she said witheringly.

"WELL, I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY," Oglaranna shrugged, clapped them both on the back (leaving them both gasping) and strode off to find Stoick and the other Chiefs.

"She hasn't changed," Astrid said reflectively.

"Yeah, still can't hear you," Hiccup said, and chuckled at her expression. "Come on, we've got to sort out assembling the bola-cannons at Troll Valley."

And then, on the seventh night, strange dragons were spotted on the horizon. They were making their way slowly to the island of Berk.

Terrible Terrors scampered silently through the village, awakening humans and dragons alike. In the Haddock lodge, Spickle, Ainid's friend, bounced through the open trap and landed on the bed. His buggy eyes were whirling with excitement and alarm.

"Spickle," Hiccup blinked at him, before turning and shaking Astrid's shoulders gently. "Up, get up," he hissed. "They're here."

Toothless raised his head from his rug, and Spike whickered in worry from her place at Astrid's side. Spickle didn't stay, but immediately scurried back through the room and disappeared down the trap once more. A moment later, there was a muffled 'Arrgh' from Stoick.

Hiccup and Astrid dressed in tense silence, and Astrid picked up her axe and her hatchet with a half-defiant, half-worried look at Hiccup. He gave her a taut smile. He had no intention of asking her to stay away from the fight, pregnant or no. It simply wasn't who she was. Besides, it wasn't like he was capable of keeping her away anyway.

They made their way down the stairs to find Stoick and Valhallarama moving from their rooms.

"You need a hammer," Stoick said tersely. Hiccup gave a sharp nod as Toothless and Spike clattered their way down the stairs. He hadn't had the time to make himself a new hammer, and he'd lost his in the Octavian Amphitheatre. No doubt it was being used by some other gladiator now. Stoick turned to his weapons rack, new last autumn, and handed Hiccup his own hammer. It was too heavy and Hiccup felt his arms being stretched to their limit.

"I don't think this is going to work," he muttered.

"Well, you're not goin' out there wi'out a weapon," growled Stoick, and Valhallarama whipped a dirk from behind her neck in a practised motion.

"How are you with a knife?" she asked levelly. Hiccup took it gingerly.

"Uh, not brilliant," he admitted, gratefully letting the hammer fall and tucking the large knife into his belt.

"He's not too bad," Astrid allowed. "But he hates to hurt anything."

"This is not going to be my day," Hiccup said glumly, grabbing Toothless' rig and beginning to kit him out. For once the Night Fury stood absolutely still and allowed himself to be saddled as quickly as possible. Spike took her cue from that, and also remained quiescent for Astrid to saddle her.

Then they went outside. Dark shapes could be seen moving in front of most houses, blacker shadows against the black night. It was utterly pitch dark, and Hiccup was glad he'd insisted on it as his night vision was probably as good as it was likely to get. He mounted Toothless as Astrid clambered awkwardly onto Spike, and Stoick climbed on after him even as Val mounted behind Astrid. Then they were away into the crisp night air, the only noise the sound of wind under dragon wings.

Hiccup could feel his heart pounding, hear the blood in his head. _He hates to hurt anything_. Well, that was true. But if Alvin were amongst the shadows advancing from the south, then perhaps the dirk at his hip wasn't going to be purely decorative. Perhaps. Maybe. The whole idea made him hot and sick and breathless with a savage sort of anticipation that felt totally alien to him. It was like the rage that had overcome him in the arena when he'd made Feather burn Alvin's face – heady like strong mead and wrong all over.

Troll Valley was a few miles from Toothless' cove. It yawned below them as they descended into position along the sheer edges of the gorge, and Hiccup could hear more wingbeats heralding the other villagers getting into place. He urged Toothless onward into the crushing darkness towards the apparent end of the valley where behind a rocky scree that hid her entirely, Rusalka waited.

She woke when she saw him dusting his hands in a charcoal barrel by a bush, her eyes startled and then pleased. A subterranean purr echoed through the canyon, and Hiccup winced. "Shhhhh!" he whispered. "Rusalka, it's time! You have to be quiet, understand? Quiet?"

She tilted her mammoth head and settled her claws deeper into the turf. Hiccup stroked her eyeridge once, before making his way back to Toothless and flying back up to the lip of the valley, alighting by his father. Stoick was arming one of the catapults, and Hiccup could vaguely make out the shapes of other Vikings, both Berkians and other clans, setting up the rest of them as well as the trebuchets. Hiccup took a deep breath and went to see to the bola-cannons.

He hadn't liked having to use them again after what he'd done to Toothless. Astrid had convinced him to use smaller rocks as weights, and pad them out with cloth. He hoped he wasn't about to irreparably damage another dragon, but it was too late to object now. They, along with catapults and trebuchets, lined the tops of the sheer walls of Troll Valley. He opened the case, pulled the barrel of the cannon out and aimed the sight, before moving on to the next one. Silently, villagers and clan members came to take position behind them as he finished the sixth and last one.

Then it was only a matter of waiting.

The night was still and peaceful. Hiccup could barely believe that this tranquil little gorge was about to become a funnel for destruction. His breath steamed in the frigid cold, and he rubbed at his arms briefly. He'd thrown on his fur vest, but he should have gone for the bearskin cloak. Suddenly a pair or small, strong hands were rubbing his shoulders, and he jumped, startled.

"Only me," said Astrid under her breath. He blew out a breath, but couldn't relax under her hands. "How're you doing?"

"As well as can be expected," he murmured back, and felt her sigh against his neck.

"That bad?" she whispered, and he suppressed a snort.

"It's the waiting," he said unhappily.

"Yeah," she breathed. "I know."

"Don't you get hurt," he muttered, turning to her and crushing her in a hug. She embraced him back, her muscles quivering with pent up apprehension and impending violence.

"I won't if you won't," she said against his jaw, and he kissed the top of her head.

They stayed like that for what could have been minutes, or hours. It was impossible to tell. The silence dragged on.

And on.

The tension was as taut as a bowstring. Hiccup could feel Astrid's breathing.

Behind them, Toothless whined low in his throat.

Stoick shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Oglaranna unlimbered her axe, her face unusually grim.

Gobber clapped his helmet on and tested his elbow.

Fishlegs cleared his throat and settled a hand on Horrorcow's neck to calm her.

"There!" Snotlout yelled, and fired his catapult. The rocks clattered into the gorge, sounding extremely loud as they bounced and thudded against the canyon walls. A startled bird flew out of the trees, squawking raucously into the stillness. Its cries echoed into the night.

"Idiot," Ruff muttered.

"The shadow looked just like a dragon! What do you want me to do, ask every shadow if it's a dragon or not?" Snotlout retorted defensively, his arms folding.

"It's a _pheasant_," said Ruffnut flatly.

"Shhh!" hissed Phlegma harshly. "I'm trying to listen!"

"Good one, trollbrain," Ruff whispered, and Snotlout's scowl could easily be made out in the darkness as he reloaded his catapult. Behind him, Jorma the Nightmare grumbled restlessly.

The silence fell once more. It was cloaking, heavy and oppressive. Hiccup held his wife and waited, counting his breaths. Astrid was peering over his shoulder into the gloom, her lip caught in her teeth.

"I've changed my mind," he whispered.

"What?" she looked up at him. His arms tightened.

"I'm not doing as well as can be expected," he breathed. "What if it doesn't work? What if…"

"Hiccup, it'll be fine," she said quietly.

"I can't have gone through all that and finally come home, only to have it burned out from underneath me," he said desperately, and met her eyes. "I just…"

"Shh," she said, her hand going to his cheek. "It. Will. Be. Fine."

"Fine," he croaked. She nodded slowly and firmly.

A piercing shriek split the air, and Hiccup jerked, startled. Dragon fire bloomed in the night sky, blinding after so much darkness. The silhouettes of many dragons ducking and weaving over the roofs of Berk made his heart stop beating, and he involuntarily let out a small noise of distress between his teeth. The signal beacons were beginning to rise over the tops of the trees, flaming merrily, and he quickly kissed Astrid's forehead before running over to his bola-cannon. Beside him, Gobber was lighting an oil-soaked rag tied around a rock, and loading it into a catapult.

"Ready?" he asked, a tense grin stretching his lips.

"That'd be a no," Hiccup murmured, watching the unfamiliar dragons wheeling away from the projectile weapons hurled from the village. They careened across the starlit sky and Hiccup took a deep breath, steeling himself.

"Why don't we invite them to play?" Stoick straightened his helmet, his eyes steely and grim. Beside him, Valhallarama span her axe expertly, and her face was set and focused. Hiccup looked between them, his parents, to where Astrid was aiming a bola-cannon of her own into the gorge.

"It's only polite," said Gobber, a shark's smile crossing his face.

Stoick unlimbered his hammer, and held it up in the air. The moment hung there, breathless and still, and then he brought it down sharply with a grunt.

Gobber launched his catapult's burning payload into the gorge, and the straw bales stacked in the pit of the valley immediately caught fire. It grew into a roaring blaze within seconds, and Hiccup watched the dragons hovering over Berk pause and turn to them.

Hiccup had thought about this long and hard. A sudden blazing fire in the middle of nowhere would be suspicious to anyone, and the Romans were renowned for never turning their backs on their enemies. They would already be uneasy, as the village had not been protected by anything other than bola-cannons, trebuchets and catapults, all fired from hidden positions in absolute silence and absolute darkness. Not a soul would have been visible – it would have been as though the village was a living entity that protected itself.

Then suddenly, a fire, some distance away. Of course their leaders would assume that the warriors of Berk were responsible for it, and start to view the village as a trap. They'd assume that if they took the town, the Berkians would charge them from behind and sweep them into the sea once their guard was down. And they'd be partly right, Hiccup grinned harshly into the night – the warriors of Berk _were_ responsible for the fire. But the trap wasn't the village.

The Roman dragon-riders were obviously conferring with each other, their dragons hovering like reptilian vultures over the peaked roofs of the village. Then as one, they turned and headed directly for Troll Valley. They'd taken the bait.

_You're losing your touch, Al,_ he thought to himself with bleak satisfaction. _Look who's tricking who now eh?_

"Get ready!" he whispered harshly, hearing others hoarsely passing similar messages along the edges of Troll Valley. The Roman dragons swooped over the treetops, leaving the well-protected village behind, and made directly for the bonfire.

There were several of the varieties that Hiccup had met in the Octavian Amphitheatre, as well as a few breeds he'd never seen before. Ten of the black-and-green feathered dragons keened into the night, and their flowery flames bloomed against the blackness as they made for the merrily burning bonfire. Behind them, eight of the huge bronze dragons flapped ponderously through the sky. Eleven of the Nightmare-like dragons accompanied it, and, pale and brilliant in the darkness, three of the swanlike white dragons as well. There were twenty Clumsys, six Sulkys and even a Twin. He didn't recognise the squat, black dragons with piggish snouts, or the skinny poison-green ones, or the golden ones with roiling red eyes. There were perhaps a hundred dragons all up.

Each was carrying a man dressed in leather armour not unlike a legionnaire - but they were not legionnaires, just as the Emperor had promised. The colour was wrong, and they had no helmets. Mercenaries, perhaps? Hiccup squinted against the smoke from their bonfire-bait as they neared, roaring and screeching as they came. Yes, definitely mercenaries. Well, that was par for the course with Alvin, though no doubt he'd found it painful to part with his money, thought Hiccup bitterly.

"Wait for it," muttered Spitelout, and every human or dragon perched around the valley tensed imperceptibly. Hiccup felt as though he'd been holding his breath forever as the wall of dragons bore down on them, a scaly, deadly flock.

They entered the mouth of the gorge, swooping along its length towards the fire. It was agonising to wait for them all to pass the narrow entrance. Hiccup forced himself to stare at the two boulders marking the place where the level ground sloped dramatically down into Troll Valley. Overhanging trees made it impractical to fly overhead in order to reach the valley floor – and they'd had a bit of help as well. Those trees had been woven and reinforced and extra branches had been tied to their trunks to make it appear that the only option for an approach was to go _under_. Hiccup watched the last dragon, one of the swanlike Handsome-dragons, pass through the rocks, and made himself count to ten to make sure that there were no stragglers. It was the longest ten seconds he'd ever lived.

Around him, hands tensed on levers and pulleys. They waited for his word.

He took a huge breath.

"NOW!" Hiccup yelled wildly, and with a wordless shout he loosed the spinning bola. It wrapped neatly around one of the orange Clumsy-dragons which fell immediately into the valley, and he whooped. All around him and along the opposite edge of the valley he could hear the shouts and battle-cries of the Berkians and other Viking Clans.

Gobber lit another flaming projectile, and refocused his catapult towards the mouth of the valley. Oglaranna, hollering a vicious and ear-shattering battle-cry, was leading a horde of warriors through the two boulders onto the gorge's floor, and Gobber unleashed the ball of fire the minute they had all entered. Another set of bales hidden by cut turf blazed into life, cutting off the attackers' escape route. Even the reinforced trees caught fire. Though it wouldn't worry the dragons, the Romans had no such protection. For them, the only way out was up.

Several of the mercenary riders had noticed their dilemma and were urging their dragons higher, only to be picked off by the bolas, trebuchets and catapults set around the valley's sides. Each dragon and rider fell heavily into the springy turf lining the gorge, where Berkian and other Viking-clan warriors either immobilised them or began to fight. The dragons seemed quite content to stay wrapped up in their cords or nets, but their human counterparts were either very loyal, very stubborn, or very unpaid until the Berkians had been subdued. They all picked themselves up and insisted on attacking.

Hiccup reset his bola-cannon and shot one of the slinky green dragons from the sky. His mother was beginning to throw ropes over the sheer sides of the gorge for their warriors to join the fighting, and he saw several people already shimmying down. A few enterprising mercenaries tried to climb up, only to be picked off by Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Bloodnut and the other Thorston family archers.

"Like fish in a barrel!" Ruffnut laughed, her eyes hard and satisfied as she smoothly drew and sent an arrow through a man's shoulder. He howled and fell back to the ground, and Hiccup turned his eyes away, watching the darting dragons below.

The fighting could barely be glimpsed between the flashing wings of the dragons, circling and firing madly in order to find a way out. Hiccup knew that they were likely to try the other end of the valley any minute now – and they'd get quite the surprise. He dropped his bola-cannon's handgrips and ran to Toothless, hauling himself up into the saddle as fast as he could. His breath was rasping in his ears as they took off, and his eyes narrowed as they circumnavigated the tumultuous gorge.

"Can you see him, bud?" he hissed in Toothless' ear. The Night Fury's eyes were also slitted, and he searched the fighting and the circling dragons keenly. Eventually he huffed in angry denial. Hiccup smiled grimly.

"Don't you worry, we'll find him. He can't hide from us," he promised. He knew he was promising himself as well as Toothless.

Rusalka, hidden behind her rocky scree, was rocking slowly between her forepaws. The noise of battle and the scents of so many new dragons were alarming her, and her huge black eye latched onto them with relief. Hiccup dusted his hands in charcoal again to be doubly sure, and then climbed carefully from Toothless onto Rusalka's head. The Night Fury faltered in the air once Hiccup wasn't working his tailfin, but managed to leap to the ground in one piece. He shook his head, and looked up at Hiccup enquiringly.

"Go find him," Hiccup said flatly, "please."

Toothless' eyes slitted in hatred once more, and he span on the spot and flowed, silent and deadly, around the scree and into the valley proper.

"Okay, girl," Hiccup took another breath. "You're gonna be very brave for me, aren't you?"

Rusalka gave her subsonic purr, and he scratched her head soothingly.

"Let's go," he whispered to her, picking up the reins and pulling up.

Her massive skull tilted back, and she let out a majestic cry that echoed throughout the island as she extended her wings and swept them down. Hiccup gritted his teeth against the immense pressure of the air that was displaced against her. It always felt like he was being pushed down onto her head by some giant hand. She rose, a glittering blue-black blur against the sky, blotting out the stars. Hiccup, pushing himself up, saw every dragon and rider in the valley frozen in awe and terror.

Rusalka roared in fright and anger at the sight of so many men, their armour indistinguishable to her poor eyesight from that of her hated foe. She poured a huge billow of fire into the air, and screams began to echo through the gorge. Rusalka landed with a shattering boom, rocks dislodging from the walls of the canyon, and breathed another massive cloud of flame at them, her whale-like whine rumbling in her throat. Hiccup soothed her as best he could, but a constant tongue of flame escaped her mouth as she regarded the mercenaries with trembling anger.

While the mercenaries were paralysed with fearful stupefaction, the Berkians and other villagers were deftly disarming them. Hiccup caught a glimpse of his father swinging his hammer like the picture of Thor, and his mother whirling deadly and graceful amongst a growing circle of bodies. Fishlegs was maddened mayhem, his eyes reddened and wild as he hacked with berserker insanity at the Romans, and Tuffnut and Snotlout were fighting together, their backs pressed to each other's and identical grins on their lips. Gerda was ululating with fierce joy, her axe twirling with wicked intent, and Hensteeth was cracking bones almost casually, his prodigious strength making it look easy.

Ruffnut was on the gorge floor too, though she was still using her bow. She loosed arrow after arrow with smooth sweeps of her hand from her quiver to the bowstring. It almost looked as though she was leisurely playing a harp. Spitelout was as expressionless as ever as his axe thudded without ceremony into the mercenaries. Phlegma was jabbing her spear into the wounded, and Gobber was sitting casually on a boulder, bashing any hopeful soul who tried to stand with a smart rap on their head. The battle was winding down, and they'd had the best of it. He could see a red line across Ruffnut's face, but that was the only apparent injury to his friends. They'd done it!

And then he saw Alvin.

His scarred face was pale with fury. He was riding one of the bronze Big Fellas, and was directing the dragon to knock over any who came near with its tail. The dragon itself was being controlled by some sort of bridle that passed through its mouth, and Hiccup recalled that the Big Fella couldn't breathe fire, only smoke. He felt sorry for this dragon. That bridle looked painful, and foam had gathered at the corners of its mouth where the bit had chafed.

Standing a small distance before him, her eyes blazing with rage, was Astrid. She looked very small in front of the big bronze dragon, but her chin was set stubbornly and her axe was held in a ready grip. Behind her was Toothless, and Hiccup recognised the set of his shoulders. The Night Fury was growling. His heart leapt into his throat.

"This your wife then, Golden Boy?" Alvin yelled up at him. His brown eyes were alight with hate, his hair a dishevelled mess. His toga was skewed and filthy. "I suppose this was all your idea, this trap, huh? Clever little Hiccup," he crooned through twisted lips, "and very clever work with the Orionos too – but it won't save _her_!" Alvin wheeled the dragon roughly, tearing at the poor animal's mouth in his furore, bringing its huge claws closer to Astrid.

She held her ground, hatred written all over her face. She gritted her jaw and raised her axe higher. "You evil _bastard_, you just try it," she hissed.

"Oooh, you were right, Hiccup, she _is_ scary, isn't she?" Alvin mocked, madness in the lilt of his voice. "I suppose I should be congratulating you on the baby," he cooed in a horrible way. "Such a surprise that must have been! Too bad it's never going to see the _light of day_!" Alvin laughed somewhat hysterically, and urged the bronze beast forward. The giant claws would trample straight over Astrid, who was stubbornly fixed to the spot, eyes defiant.

Hiccup's hands clenched. "Rusalka," he began, but didn't, couldn't know how to finish that sentence.

Toothless answered for him. With a final growl that rose into a roar of revenge, Toothless launched himself at the bronze dragon and rolled the larger beast over with the force of his impact. He kicked and bit and scratched like a tom in a catfight, his jaws locking over the other dragon's neck and his claws scraping the huge scales. "Toothless!" Hiccup cried, aghast, as his best friend was kicked solidly in the stomach, sending him skidding across the ground. The Night Fury didn't stay down, but sprang for the dragon's throat once more, biting uselessly at the hard bronze scales. Hiccup began to scramble down Rusalka's back, his hands fumbling in his haste at the ropes. He had to get down there, and… and… and do what? He had no idea.

Astrid had run around to the dragon's other side as they rolled, and pulled the dazed Alvin from the saddle. She hauled him up, and punched him solidly in the teeth, and he reeled, spitting blood. She drew back her arm to punch him again, but a blocky hand caught her elbow. She turned as Hiccup ran stumblingly towards them, weaving through prone bodies, tied-up dragons and victorious villagers. Stoick was holding her arm, his face blank and set.

"Allow me," he grated.

Astrid looked down at the man whose toga she held in her fist. "No," she snarled.

Stoick's expression didn't change. "I insist."

"I got to him first," Astrid hissed, but at that point, Valhallarama pulled the limp conman from her grasp.

"I think you'll find the dragon found him first," she said in an unemotional tone, jerking her head towards the place where Toothless rolled and kicked the bronze dragon. Val regarded Alvin with that same frighteningly blank expression, and then drew her other arm back and also punched him directly in the teeth. Then she drew back her armoured knee, and jammed it violently between his legs.

"There," she said flatly. "Your turn, my love."

Stoick took the lolling, bloodied and groaning Alvin. "Thanks, darlin'," he said in an expressionless voice, and his huge arm swang around to crash his fist against Alvin's cheekbone. The noise as it broke was clearly audible to Hiccup as he drew up to them.

"Dad…!" he gasped, and then whirled to Toothless. "Bud, stop, stop! It's okay! Let me, hey, stop it!"

Toothless worried some more at the bronze dragon's ear, before rolling clear and growling at him, breathing hard. The bronze curled his lips away from his sharp white teeth, but did not attack the smaller Night Fury in response. Hiccup pulled at Toothless' shoulder, his hand sliding over tense muscle. "Buddy, Toothless… it's okay, it's not his fault, it's okay, I'm okay, I'm here, look…" he babbled breathlessly. Toothless watched Tuffnut walking slowly up to the bronze dragon, calming him and leading him away. Only then did the green eyes turn to Hiccup. The Night Fury purled low in his throat and nosed at Hiccup's hair, and Hiccup let out his shuddering breath against his neck.

Then Toothless whirled on the spot faster than thinking, and sank his teeth into Alvin's leg. The man screamed through his mangled face, and Hiccup ducked his face away. He swallowed his bile, and admitted to himself that he simply wasn't able to watch _anyone's_ leg get bitten by a dragon. Toothless released Alvin with a jerk of his head, and rivulets of blood began to soak through the grubby toga. The Night Fury snorted at him, and then turned back to Hiccup, purring loud enough to shake his bones loose. Hiccup swallowed again and rubbed at the smooth black scales.

"Son," said Valhallarama, still in that flat tone, and Hiccup turned slowly to see the pitiful shape of Alvin hanging awkwardly in his father's fist. "Your turn."

Hiccup opened his mouth to object - but upon meeting the brown eyes of the man who had stolen so precious a time and planned such evil things, he felt the flames of that rage encapsulate him once more. Before he'd even had a chance to analyse it, his whole weight was behind a punch that seemed to come from the very pit of his being. He locked his wrist just as Astrid had taught him, and his skinny fist flew across the distance faster than thought to land firmly in Alvin's right eye. His other hand flew out and smashed against the conman's nose, and for some reason the sound of it breaking wasn't sickening to him as it always was. That rage – that powerful, heady and _wrong_ feeling was back, and it frightened him more than it had before. Hiccup forced himself to stop there before he lost himself entirely. His fists lowered to his sides, shaking slightly as he stared at Alvin.

"That's enough," he said distantly, and didn't even recognise his own voice.

"Oh, I don't think so," said Astrid in a sweet, quiet voice, her axe rising.

"Look at him," Hiccup said, his tone faraway and distracted. "Look. He lost. He's broken. He won't come after me again. Besides," and Hiccup focused on Astrid, his green eyes locking onto hers, and he finished in a soft voice, "I'm not like him."

Her own eyes softened. "No, you're not," she agreed gently.

"We're lettin' him _live_?" Stoick said incredulously.

"Not a chance," Val said adamantly, fire sparking behind her eyes.

"Guys! Guys!" Hiccup held up his hands and then dropped them, looking down at Alvin. "He's wasted enough of our time already. I'm not having his blood on my hands. I'm not going to sink to his level. I'm not going to kill people to get what I want. I don't need some stupid revenge to make my life better. I'm _not like him_."

Alvin raised his bloodshot eyes apprehensively as Hiccup leaned forward and whispered, "Sorry, Al. I guess you just have to live with it. Aren't you something now, mister trickster? All hail Alvin, the Greatest Conman in the World."

He straightened, feeling far lighter. A great weight had been lifted. The anger and helplessness he'd internalised since his kidnapping had all been lanced like an infected wound and allowed to drain away. The fury over missing half his wife's first pregnancy, over being sold like a sheep or goat, over being kept in a hole - that's what it had been. That was why it felt so alien. His self had reasserted control over his rage, and he knew he'd never fear it again. After all, it simply wasn't him. "Put him on a boat and let him go," he said absently.

Astrid, scowling ferociously, slipped an arm around him as he began to walk through the debris-strewn valley towards Rusalka. The sky was beginning to be touched with blue towards the east, and he breathed deeply.

"You should have killed him," Astrid grumbled.

He shrugged one shoulder. "This is actually worse for him. I _beat_ him, and more, I beat him at the thing he prides himself on; trickery. He has to live with that." Hiccup scratched his chin. "Oh, and with a lot more scars, too." He shuddered at the memory of Toothless' teeth closing around the man's leg.

"You're an idiot," she said with fond aspersion. "I think he'll be back."

"If he is, we deal with it then," he said philosophically, and pulled her close and kissed her. "No use borrowing trouble."

"Mmmph," she huffed, unconvinced. "You should let _me_ kill him."

"Astrid," he sighed, and she made a 'tcha!' noise between her teeth.

"Well, it's not good battle-tactics to leave your enemy standing," she pointed out triumphantly, and he snorted, beginning to walk again. Rusalka rumbled in greeting, her frayed nerves somewhat soothed by the fast elimination of all those 'legionnaires'.

"I'm not a battle tactician," he said adamantly, and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh of course, it was some other battle tactician who thought up the whole thing. Honestly, Hiccup."

"Can we not quarrel before the sun comes up?" he said plaintively. "It's been a long night."

She hugged him tighter to her side, and the Tiny Haddock prodded him through her skin. "All right, all _right_," she said in a grudging tone, but when he glanced down at her, her eyes were sparkling back at him. "I guess I knew you'd never be able to…" she said in a more reflective tone, and then shook her head. "You're so… so _Hiccup_ sometimes."

"Are you about to gesture to all of me?" he asked dryly, and she giggled as they neared Rusalka.

"I love you, and I'm proud, I guess is what I'm saying," she said softly, and kissed his cheek. He smiled.

"Back at you," he said just as softly, and kissed her parted lips.

Rusalka shifted uncomfortably, and a growl began to build in her throat, startling Hiccup and Astrid out of their moment. Hiccup gave the Orionos a worried look. "Rusalka? Hey, girl, it's okay! They're all… well, they're all in pieces or they're all captured, don't you worry about a-"

"Look out!" screamed Gerda suddenly, and they whipped their heads around to see Alvin lurching and stumbling towards them at speed, Hiccup's dirk in his hand. Hiccup's hand flew to his hip. Alvin must have filched it from him after he punched him.

"My axe!" Astrid hissed, her eyes wide even as she moved into a ready pose. "I left it by Toothless!"

"And that's my knife!" Hiccup groaned back, also moving into a fighting stance as the conman rushed painfully towards them, his arm raising the knife in a killing blow aimed at Hiccup's heart. A wild howl tore from his mangled lips, and his eyes were completely insane. Rusalka keened in fright at the man's bloodied and grubby toga.

Hiccup ducked under the blow even as Astrid smashed her hands against Alvin's back, sending him tumbling heavily to the ground. She stamped sharply on the man's wounded leg, and there was the brittle _crack _of his kneecap breaking. Alvin screeched. Hiccup moved smoothly into a grappling hold that Astrid had taught him, his elbow pressing into the other man's throat and his knee pinning his hand to the ground. Rusalka shrieked, her black eyes wide with loathing, and those huge shark-like jaws began to open.

"Duck!" Hiccup screamed. He and Astrid both threw themselves to the side as the mammoth head descended. Alvin had a moment to register the giant teeth closing above him, each as tall as a man, before his eyes turned to Hiccup's, suddenly lucid with fright and horror.

"Help me!" he babbled in terror, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just please, _please_, help me, _help me_, HELP ME, _HELP…!" _

But the gargantuan jaws closed around his plea. Rusalka chewed, and there was a brief glimpse of a shredded face and mangled limbs amongst the serrated teeth. The screaming continued, muffled by the dragon's mouth. She chewed once more, and with a final shriek, Alvin the Treacherous was gone.

Rusalka swallowed.

Hiccup threw up.

Rusalka nosed at the ground a little before she was satisfied that the hated toga was gone. Then she raised her head and warbled like a cheerful thunderstorm. Hiccup tried desperately to control his retching, but his stomach was having too much fun turning itself inside out.

Astrid crawled over towards him. "Hiccup…?" she managed as she latched onto his arm. She was quivering, her trembling hand pushing his hair back as he retched some more. "Shhh…" she said shakily.

Stoick rushed towards them, one eye warily fixed on the Orionos. "Son," he gasped.

"I'm okay," Hiccup croaked.

Gerda had her hands pressed over her heart. "Dear Gods," she said faintly, before shaking herself. "Right, you need a cup of cold water and you both need some rest. And for goodness sake, boy, stop that. You need that food, you're still thin as a bone, and it's a complete waste. Don't you know that winter's coming?"

That was absurd enough for Hiccup to stop, his eyes travelling incredulously to his mother-in-law. She looked a little abashed, but only a little.

Val nudged her friend, before regarding Rusalka appraisingly. "Poetic justice," she said in a measured way.

"I don't want to think about it," Hiccup rasped, wiping his mouth. Astrid helped him to his feet as his father hovered anxiously.

"Then don't," she said firmly, and he shuddered.

"Gonna have nightmares," he warned her.

"You and me both," she muttered, glancing up at Rusalka. "Still, that settles the argument, doesn't it?"

"Hel of a way to win an argument," Hiccup managed.

"Well, I _do_ like to win," she said with a small smile, and helped him to where Toothless waited with Spike to take them back home.

* * *

_Good? Terrible? Made you go crosseyed? Tell me!_


	25. Chapter 25

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Almost finished! *cries* I am going to miss this story and all of you faithful and lovely reviewers. You are all the epitome of WIN.

**Kat: **I know! *shivers too* Thanks! **xv323: **Oh my! Blushing like the SUN here! Thank you so much! I haven't any plans for a sequel as yet, I'm probably going to take a break for a bit first. There's a lot of upheaval in RL at the moment, so it may take some time, but I promise you I won't stop writing, especially HTTYD fic! **clockwork mockingbird: **Yeah, in your _face,_ Alvin! (and your leg, and your side, and your arms... _euurgh..._) Go Rusalka! Hiccup's conditioning sure stuck, didn't it? Now for more - and yes to both questions! *g* Thank you mockingbird! **story master: **Oh, give it a go! It's all about practice. Read as much as you can, and start by writing short stories or small moments. Build it up. Try writing in Microsoft Word or something else that has a spell-checker. And RE-READ everything you write before you post. A million times. Sometimes it gives you more ideas, helps you pick things you've missed, gives you the chance to fix your mistakes. Writing a story's plot out first (not the story itself) can give you ideas for twists, or helps you pick the main themes. I'm so happy you liked what happened to Alvin (The evil snot!) and that you've enjoyed this so much! Thank you! **Voldyne: **Hah, got his just desserts, the traitorous bastard! Agrippina and Nero are stuck! Hah! Thank you so much! **Romance and Musicals: **Hee, thanks! Yay Rusalka! Yeah, if I saw someone being eaten, I think my first response would be to throw up too. _Bleargh._ *shudder* **Ze Great Camicazi: **Well, we can still hate Alvin's slimy little ghost. Yeah. A little thing like him being dead can't stop the AHC! **The Incredible Puba: **Thank you! I'm sorry you found the wait boring - I was trying for suspense, guess I missed. Something to work on in future I suppose! I wanted the battle to feel mostly rushed - battles usually tend to be (hollywood, you _lying liar!)_ and thanks to all the planning, it was a done deal, really. Next one is the last chapter! **Stevethepokemaster: **Well, I guess this could count as an after-party, and Hiccup's definitely dealing with poor Astrid's moods! Thank you, so glad you liked Alvin's end! **childofthestorm: **Thank you so much! You were right! *pins badge* Oh, thank _gawd_, I'm so happy the battle lead-up and scene could be followed - I rewrote that a billion times to get it to the point where _I _could follow it! SO MUCH DETAIL, sheesh. (We're not actually going to see the clean-up, but assume that all the survivors were sent home and no dragons were harmed permanently *g*) **darkmaster7987: **Thank you, thank you, thank you! Poor Rusalka, going to have indigestion, she is! Yep, I wanted Al's death to be suitably grisly, so that even amongst the sense of triumph there would be a certain horror to it. I made myself a bit queasy! (Aha, FF. net, logging you out, grr!) **guardianskye: **Thank you so very much! So glad you're enjoying it!

The penultimate chapter! THE FLUFF. IT'S EVERYWHERE.

* * *

_Nine weeks later…_

"This is _impossible!_" Astrid burst out, throwing the dress across their room. Hiccup looked up from his drafting table with a carefully hidden smile.

"Trouble?" he asked.

She flopped back onto the pallet, her belly rising above her like a mountain peak. "I don't fit into the dress for Ruff's wedding," she grated, "the one I made not even two weeks ago. This kid is taking after Stoick."

Hiccup raised an eyebrow. In fact, Phlegma had told him that because of her natural slenderness, the baby seemed disproportionately huge. Not that he was going to say that out loud. "They do say these things skip a generation…"

She made an incoherent noise of disgust, and rubbed her face with her hands. "And now I can't get up again," she growled. Hiccup bit his lip to disguise his grin and went to help his wife sit up.

She was halfway through her eighth month of pregnancy, and as her girth steadily increased, so did her temper. The inability to do the simplest things – like stand up under her own power – had led to a perfect frenzy of carpentry on Hiccup's part. Every bench in their house now boasted a pole affixed to one leg for her to grab and haul herself up. The stairs to their loft were bracketed by rails for her to hold. Even their tub for washdays had a bar for her.

Hiccup had loved every minute of it. As she swelled and grew, he could feel his chest puffing out to almost the same degree. He loved it when she had started to waddle, though he sensibly hid it from her. He loved it when she needed his help. He loved it when she had outgrown her original smock, and he loved the prowlike dome that was their child, protected by her body. His hands were drawn to it constantly, and she had begun to bat him away irritably. He loved that too. The extra thickness of her hair, the glow in her face, the pink spidery lines low on her abdomen – he loved the lot. Sometimes he felt like his heart would burst.

He busied himself most days with the smithy, with Toothless, and with preparing for the baby. He'd built a crib and more shelves and a table and whatever else Gerda, Phlegma or Val told him they might possibly need. The crib was a real triumph of Hiccup Flair – a small steel counterbalance filled with water could keep it rocking gently all by itself. Astrid had taken one look at it and burst into fond laughter, before kissing him soundly.

Winter was drawing in with its usual ferocious pace, and so he wasn't able to build extra rooms onto the lodge before the baby came. He or she would be in their loft with them, and when spring arrived, Hiccup would begin the work. His plans and drafts sat on his workbench even now.

True to his word, he took Toothless flying every day for a week to repay him for everything. The dragon had been ecstatic – and truth be told, Hiccup had needed it just as much. Both he and Spike were getting drowsier, but they were still awake for the moment. They were getting through immense amounts of fish in preparation for their long hibernation, and no doubt they'd be asleep within the week. Hiccup had created a warm and cosy nest by the chimney for them to take their winter's nap.

Astrid hadn't been idle either. She'd spent a lot of time with Ruffnut, learning to sew. The pair of them had created dresses and smocks and warm little hats and woollen shoes, and a new item tended to show up on the baby's shelves every day. Hiccup had goggled at the _tininess_ of them.

They'd also made clothes for himself and for the rest of her pregnancy, and Astrid had been very proud of the dress she'd made to wear to Ruff's wedding that evening. No wonder she was upset. Hiccup rubbed her back as she muttered under her breath.

"Look, maybe we can let it out?" he ventured.

She rolled her eyes. "I thought of that," she said snippily. "There's not enough in the seams."

"We add a piece?" Hiccup suggested. She blew out a breath.

"There isn't enough _time_," she sighed. "We've only got a couple of hours before the baths." She rubbed her bare stomach as a ripple passed over the top of the immensely stretched skin. "I really thought I'd still fit into that," she mourned.

Hiccup kissed her temple and went to pick up the dress. It _was_ quite nice – a warm rusty wool that complimented the glow in her cheeks. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully, turning it inside out and inspecting the seams – which were indeed as small as possible. "Any more of this material? We wouldn't need to take the whole thing apart," he mused.

"Hiccup," she began, but he put a finger on her lips, before dropping his hand down to her belly. The baby pushed at him, and he felt his face begin to crease into its normal foolish '_the-baby-kicked!_' lines. Astrid raised a patient, long-suffering eyebrow as he re-gathered his thoughts.

"Look," he showed her the side seams. "We unpick these for six or so inches, and stitch in another piece. We don't have to add a whole panel, just maybe a sort of diamond shape? It won't take long. Tell you what, you unpick, and I'll sew, how does that sound?"

She scrunched her nose at him. "You're humouring me," she accused without rancour.

"Well, you're very scary," he said with a smile, turning her chin and kissing her. She hummed into the kiss.

"Okay, deal," she leaned her forehead against his, and he reached for her belly again – but she slapped him away and reached awkwardly for her scissors. "The material's in the box," she said absently.

He nursed his hand with a mock-wounded expression, and she rolled her eyes once more. "Honestly, Hiccup, it's amazing you've managed to get anything done, what with your hands on me every two seconds and your head in the clouds…"

"It's always been in the clouds when it comes to you," he said with a crooked grin that became a lascivious smirk, "and I am _never_ going to want to take my hands off you."

She chuckled as she began to rip the seam. "Okay, loverboy, show me this diamond patch thing and we'll talk."

He beamed, and went to cut some darts for his wife's maternity dress.

* * *

Fishlegs spluttered as they dunked him once more. Hiccup thought he was doing very well. Odin knew Hiccup himself had been a drowned rat at this point.

The groom's ritual bath before the wedding was generally observed by the male friends and family of the victim. Hiccup tried to stay out of the ribald teasing that was turning his friend's face beet-red. Fishlegs was drenched with one last pitcher of herb-laced water, and allowed to get out of the tub. He looked immensely grateful as several skins were thrown at him to dry off with.

Their elders had been drinking since that morning, as had 'Lout and Tuff, so Hiccup judged that poor Fishlegs and himself were the only sober ones in the room. 'Legs began to shiver slightly in the frigid air, stripping the water off himself with his hands and with the furs as all around him men told risqué wedding stories with a leer and a wink. The small round scars of Toothless' bite showed up even under Fishlegs' impressive mass of body hair. "Uh," he whispered to Hiccup, "do they ever stop with all that?"

Hiccup grimaced. "Well, yeah. They pass out eventually."

Fishlegs winced and struggled into his wedding tunic. It had been made by Bloodnut Thorston, and was covered in embroidery as the woman expressed her joy over her eldest daughter's wedding with the medium of thread and fabric. No doubt Ruff's dress was twice as ornate. "Is any of what they're saying…?" Fishlegs looked sidelong to Hiccup as Gobber told a raucous tale to a red-faced and chuckling Hensteeth. "Is it…?"

"True?" Hiccup smiled a little, and sat down as Fishlegs pulled on his leggings. "Not much of it. Just… look, whatever you do, _don't_ go fast. It'll hurt her a bit, but if you go slow it won't hurt so much and the pain only lasts a little while anyway. But go slow."

Fishlegs nodded owlishly, and took a huge shuddering breath. "Okay. Okay. Nope, less okay… I feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Well, that part's normal," Hiccup said wryly. "I did too, and Ruff probably feels the same way right now. But 'Legs, you love her, right?"

Fishlegs nodded again and began to tie on his boots. "Yeah," he said, and a small smile tugged at his round face. "Yeah, I do."

Hiccup slapped his broad back, and stood. "Then go get her," he said cheerfully, and Fishlegs swallowed hard.

"Uh," he said stupidly, and ducked his head as his cheeks flamed once more under his neatly trimmed beard.

Hensteeth, beaming proudly, hoisted their family sword and frogmarched his son out of the Ingerman lodge. Fishlegs looked back at Hiccup helplessly as he was led towards the square before the Mead-Hall by drunken, friendly but inexorable hands. Hiccup gave his friend a thumbs-up and an encouraging look, but the panic in Fishlegs' eyes didn't lessen. A grin began to cross Hiccup's face, and he schooled it hurriedly. Poor 'Legs.

The Gothi was waiting placidly outside the hall surrounded by the rest of the village, her wrinkled hands folded over her lap and her eyes drooping as she nodded off. She stirred and rose as the men approached rowdily and the crowd began to hoot and holler. Her face creased in a smile of welcome as she nodded kindly to the vibrating Fishlegs, and patted his shoulder.

"Have you the _mundr_?" (1) she asked. Fishlegs stammered and fumbled at his belt to produce a pouch. Six bright gems glittered into his broad palm, and Tuffnut's eyes grew very round.

"Your crazy sister is _not_ worth that much," Snotlout said in an awed voice.

"Dude, _shut up_," Tuffnut said hoarsely, worshipfully staring at the gems.

Fishlegs' head snapped up and he fixed suddenly steady eyes on Snotlout. "Yes, she is," he said evenly, pouring the jewels back into the pouch and placing it firmly into Tuffnut's nerveless hands.

"Here, where'd you get 'em?" Gobber asked Hensteeth a trifle sulkily. "You been on a raid an' didn't invite the rest o' us? You know that's very bad manners."

"They were my father's, about all he _did_ leave us. Never saw a use for 'em until now. You can't eat gems." Hensteeth rumbled with a shrug. "Fishlegs insisted."

"You are now my favourite person ever, 'Legs," Tuffnut breathed, gawking at the pouch in his hands.

"Hey?"

"Sorry, 'Lout, but you never gave me jewels. Only a black eye once," Tuffnut said apologetically to his friend. Snotlout snorted and folded his arms.

At that moment the doors of the Thorston house swung open, and six-year-old Chestnut Thorston led the charge, holding Ruffnut's family sword in his little hands and scowling impressively. And it _was_ a charge. Rather than move slowly between the villagers, Ruffnut marched purposely towards her prospective husband, her chin lifted stubbornly. She grabbed his hand, glared at the Elder, and said in a steely voice, "Let's do this thing, then."

Fishlegs gulped and looked down at their joined hands as though they were live snakes.

The Gothi laughed, and began to conduct the transactions.

Hiccup leaned back against a rock upon which Horrorcow was napping. A wreath had been placed around her bulbous head, and her protruding eyes were lidded with contentment. He scratched her cheek reflectively, remembering the day when it had been _him_ stammering over the blessings, and an equally scary woman had gripped his hand.

That scary woman had sat herself down on a bench across from him, and her altered russet dress looked lovely on her. Her hair was caught back in one of her ornate headbands with the headscarf wound underneath, and her cheeks were aglow with the ruddy warmth of late pregnancy. She looked beautiful, he thought, and the corner of his mouth rose in a crooked smile.

The _mundr_ had been exchanged, and so the dowry was the only transaction still to process until the next morning, when Fishlegs would give Ruffnut her morning-gift. Bloodnut Thorston casually rattled off the gifts she was giving to the newlyweds, and Fishlegs' eyes began to boggle. The Thorstons were wealthy traders, and Bloodnut had done well for her family as the village seamstress even after the death of Waspsnest Thorston two years ago from the winter sickness. The new couple would be a rich pair. Ruffnut looked somewhat irritated that her mother wasn't giving her their Zippleback, and Tuffnut crossed his arms smugly.

Then the sow was led up to the boulder before the Mead-Hall, and its neck was deftly cut. The attention of the Gods was invoked, and the Gothi dipped a fir-bundle into the blood, flicking it over the pair and the attending crowd. Hiccup scrunched his nose as it splattered him on the cheek, even as the sow was whisked away to become sausages for the feast. He'd been really glad the stupid ram had refused to be sacrificed at his own wedding – being splattered with blood wasn't his idea of a fun time.

Then the prayers to Odin, Freyr and Frigga were made, and the congregation fell reverently silent, though Crosseyes Gudmunsson was attempting to surreptitiously stifle his burps throughout the whole thing. It wasn't working, and the noise floated above the whole crowd. A small titter interrupted the solemnity of the moment. Crosseyes gritted his teeth, but another burp escaped him and Hiccup bit his lip to stop from laughing out loud. He met Astrid's eyes, and hers were also sparkling with merriment. The minute their gazes crossed, the laughter threatened to get away from him and she had to squeeze her eyes shut and he had to bite down harder to refrain from giggling all the way through the sacred rite.

Fishlegs handed Ruffnut his family's sword, and she viewed it with a critical eye, hefting it experimentally as he hovered anxiously. Eventually she relented and gave him a sly smile, and he seemed to realise that she had been deliberately teasing him. His eyebrows knitted in a hurt expression, and she grabbed her sword from Chestnut and handed it to him with a wink. He smiled then, a trifle foolishly, her sword looking like a toothpick in his hand.

Then Fishlegs held out his new sword to his mountainous, blubbing father and Hensteeth slid the ring onto the hilt. Fishlegs then shyly offered the hilt to his new wife, and Ruffnut grabbed the ring eagerly and shoved it onto her finger. Then she held out her sword to her tearful mother, and Bloodnut dropped a ring onto the offered hilt. Ruffnut gave Fishlegs a blinding smile as he took it and managed to get it onto his broad finger. It was a smile so unlike her usual sly smirk that Hiccup was actually taken aback at how happy she looked.

The swords were then held together, and they locked hands over the pommels. Fishlegs looked a bit frightened, and Ruffnut determined, as they said their vows.

"I promise," Fishlegs quavered, "to do whatever you want me to do – within reason – and make you happy, and not make you mad. Oh, and I promise to make you laugh. And drawl! I like it when you drawl, uh… and um, I promise to keep us safe and look after us and any uh…umchildrenoranything, and… and I promise to keep finding new ways to show you that I love you, like, plus _three hundred_ love," he said with more animation.

Ruffnut, still smiling beatifically, nudged his shoulder. "Yeah, so, I promise all that too. Except don't drawl, you sound way stupid when you drawl. And I promise to totally love every list you come up with, and not to ever ruin your books or experiments, and to make sure you know how smart you are, idiot."

Fishlegs bent his head, and grinned hard against his chest.

The catcalls and whoops began as Fishlegs leaned in and gingerly kissed his bride, and she yanked him down firmly and made him do a more thorough job. He was grinning stupidly as she released him, and Ruffnut's expression was a bit smug. Hiccup whooped and clapped as Fishlegs' head was pulled down again and Ruffnut launched herself at her husband's lips once more. Astrid's cheers and laughter could be heard above the throng.

And then Ruffnut tore herself away and _sprinted_ up the hill to the mead-hall. Fishlegs gaped after her for a second, before realising what she was doing and raced after her. She had too much of a head start though, her long, limber legs eating up the metres and she was crowing from the doorway even as the crowd laughed at them.

"Yeah, I won!" she cheered. "I won the bride-running! You boys have to serve the _girls_ all night!"

"No, it's members of the groom's party, you trollface!" Tuff howled, but Ruffnut was too busy dancing in glee to retort. Fishlegs reached her and caught her around her waist as she punched the air in victory.

"I won!" she laughed, and kissed him again as the villagers began to swarm up the hill towards them – and the ale-barrels. "Yeah, the girls won!"

Fishlegs dropped his sword over the threshold and lifted Ruff easily over it into the hall, and Hensteeth immediately caught his son in a massive bear-hug, his giant frame dwarfing even Fishlegs. His huge face was wet and proud, and he blubbed incomprehensibly as he shook his son in his embrace. Stoick covered his smile and gently steered the two further into the hall so that the crowd could enter. Hensteeth set Fishlegs down at the head table and sighed hugely and happily, before heading in the vague direction of the barrels. The minute Fishlegs had been released, Ruffnut latched onto his arm like a fierce blonde limpet.

Hiccup managed to reach Astrid as they poured into the hall, and she leaned against his arm. "I beat _you_ up the hill," she whispered sultrily in his ear, and he shivered.

"Yeah, but everyone was too drunk to remember who won what," he replied softly. "Besides, I was too nervous to drink, so no one had to serve me."

"You drank my mead," she said, her eyebrows rising.

"That was a noble deed of heroism, I'll have you know," he retorted, and she giggled and pulled a face.

"I'll say. I don't envy Ruff and 'Legs their beverage selection for the next month."

"Urrgh," he said in emphatic agreement, finding a table. Fishlegs was aiming for the rooftree, his eyes squinted and his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. "A silver says he gets it."

"No bet," she sniffed. "As strong as he is, they'll need another rooftree."

"Are you impugning my rooftree-stabbing skills?" he said in mock-outrage. She prodded his arm and rolled her eyes.

"It stuck in all right, didn't it? You worry too much. Besides, the whole of Midgard can see that you're strong enough to sire children."

"Heh," he grinned, and his hands dropped reverently onto her belly once more. She allowed it and kissed his cheek.

"They look happy," she commented quietly as Fishlegs turned to a new chorus of cheers, the sword sticking a foot into the rooftree and his face flushed with victory.

"Yeah," he leaned his head against hers as Ruffnut casually handed Fishlegs a goblet. The Elder tried to slip the ceremonial Hammer of Thor into Ruff's lap for fertility even as she grabbed the goblet back and drained it. The Hammer fell off with a clatter as Ruff shuddered, making a sickened face. "Although Ruff looks kinda green right now."

"Could you get me some water?" Astrid asked then. "Just looking at her is making _me_ feel green."

"Water, and I'll get you a plate," he promised. "Lamb, pork or fish?"

She hemmed and hawed. "Lamb," she decided reluctantly. "I want the fish, but Phlegma'll kill me if she sees me eating _more_ of it."

"How about _I_ have the fish?" he suggested slyly. "And y'know, if some of it goes missing, well…"

"I love you," she smiled.

"You too," he kissed her forehead. "Be back soon."

Hiccup navigated the rowdy crowd around the firepits and quickly arranged two plates. Valhallarama was already there, carving a fowl with deft, worryingly efficient slices of her knife. "Lovely wedding," she remarked a bit too casually, and smoothed his hair back. He smiled a bit sadly at her.

"How about I tell you everything about mine tomorrow night?" he offered gently, and she huffed, her eyes sliding away.

"Perceptive boy," she murmured. Hiccup, Stoick and Astrid had been trying to fill Valhallarama in on all the events she had missed throughout their lives. Dinner was held in the Haddock lodge rather than the Mead Hall so that they could sit and talk in the lengthening darkness. Astrid had been grateful for the excuse not to manage the hill to the hall twice a day – and everyone was getting a crash course in cookery from Valhallarama at the same time. Hiccup was easily the best at seasoning, but Astrid was frighteningly good at slicing and chopping. Stoick, who wasn't good at either, had become the masher and mincer.

Despite over two months of talking Val still hadn't heard everything, and some topics they skirted simply because it was too touchy. She had been livid to discover that her son had been something of a joke before his fourteenth year, and so the stories had become a touch strained at times. She had been especially angry with some of Stoick's actions. No matter how many times Hiccup said it was fine, that everything was fine now, Stoick would fall silent in guilt, Astrid would gnaw her lip and Valhallarama would bristle at the mere mention of those days.

"I'm sure you looked very handsome, and it was a beautiful ceremony," she said distantly, her hand smoothing over his hair again.

"Well, yeah, it's _me_ we're talking about here," he said with feigned exasperation. Then he leaned in and kissed her cheek, and whispered, "I stammered more than Fishlegs did, and the ram ran onto the roof and bleated all night."

She snorted and batted him away. "Typical. Go on, you, get that to Astrid."

He grinned and picked up the plates, balancing them on one arm as he poured a goblet of water and snagged himself a small cup of ale.

"Hiccup, my man!" Snotlout bellowed effusively as he weaved into view. "Howsit going? Good wedding, amiright? I'd say yours was better, but I can't remember it."

"This does not surprise me," Hiccup chuckled, awkwardly picking up the goblet of water and his ale in the one hand. "You'd invented a new language before the sun had set."

"Yeah, that was awesome," said Snotlout nostalgically. "Oh hey, I saw Rusalka in the bay this morning. She says graaagh."

"Graaagh," Hiccup rolled his eyes. "Dragonese for 'hi', then?"

"Well, she did," Snotlout shrugged. "She came up for air, saw me, waved her tail around like a sail and went 'graaagh'. This is totally the truth, and Tuff was with me, so you can ask him too."

"Hey, I believe you," Hiccup said quickly. "Did she… did she look okay?"

Snotlout scratched his head. "Mostly she looked really big," he said thoughtfully.

Hiccup shook his head. "Thanks, 'Lout."

He pondered that as he wove through the people back to the table. Rusalka had been spotted a few times in the icy waters around the island, trumpeting and splashing and generally having a whale of a time. Hiccup was glad for her, though he hadn't had the chance to pat her since taking her to the water's edge after the battle. The sight of her still made his stomach twist with guilt, but it was slowly fading as her current happiness with her circumstances impressed itself upon him. Then there was the last sight of Alvin disappearing into her shark-like maw that had given him nightmares for a week or so. It still made him shudder, but as his mother had said, there was a certain poetic justice in it.

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Astrid asked as he sat the water and a plate of lamb and vegetables before her and got stuck into his fish.

"Snotlout saw Rusalka," he muttered reluctantly, and she put down the fork she had only just picked up.

"Hiccup," she said warningly, and he held up his own fork protectively.

"Not beating myself up, not thinking about being eaten, and not getting sad," he said hastily, and she relaxed, picking up her fork again and stealing some of his fish.

"Good," she said decisively, and then moaned around her mouthful of fish. "That's so good."

Stoick sat down opposite them, his weight making the bench creak, and placed a plate of his own in front of him. He had two spots of high colour on his cheeks, and his helmet was a bit askew, but he didn't seem all that drunk. "Did I just see you eatin' more fish?" he shook a finger at Astrid. "Phlegma's goin' to have your hide."

"Oh no, Astrid's having lamb," Hiccup said with a perfectly straight face.

"Mmm," she nodded, and took a bite to prove it.

Stoick chuckled hugely and began on his own meal, drinking sporadically from a tankard between forkfuls. "Yer foolin' no one," he told them cheerfully.

"What _is_ your father talking about, Hiccup?" Astrid said in a loud voice.

"His wits are wandering. It might be a sign of advancing old age," Hiccup said sagely, and ducked as his father's hand came close to clipping his head.

"Smart alecky son of mine," he growled playfully. "Why'd I sail all the bloody way to Rome to get _you _back?"

"Because Gobber doesn't sharpen your axe for free," Hiccup said serenely, and Astrid laughed into her goblet of water.

"What don't I do?" Gobber asked, plunking himself next to his battle-brother.

"Bathe often enough," said Hiccup immediately, and this time, both Astrid and Stoick laughed. Gobber gave Hiccup a deceptively friendly smile, his stone tooth glinting in the torchlight.

"How do you feel about rakin' the ashes in the forge fer a few days, Hiccup?" he asked sweetly. Hiccup refocused sharply on his food and began to shovel it into his mouth. All three were laughing now.

"Share the joke?" Val sat down on Stoick's other side, and he kissed her briefly before nodding to Hiccup.

"Just our lad runnin' his mouth off again," he grinned. "You done at the banquet-table?"

"Finally," she said with aspersion. "Your dragon is circling it like a shark, by the way," she said across to Hiccup. "I had to throw him the goose carcass."

"He's after the fish," Hiccup sighed.

"He's not the only one," grumbled Astrid.

Hiccup casually shunted his plate over and put his elbow in front of it, and Astrid kissed him even as she stole a few more bites. Stoick opened his mouth to comment, but snapped it shut with a grunt of resigned acceptance.

"Hey, Fishing Basket!" Ruffnut's voice positively _squealed_, and she appeared at the end of their table, hopping from leg to leg. "Did you see?"

"Saw the whole thing! You look amazing, Ruff, it was great! And hey, congratulations, _Mrs Ingerman_," Astrid finished with relish, watching Ruff's face turn white and then red.

"Oh my gawds, I'm _ancient_," she gasped, her bridal crown wobbling as she pulled at her hair.

"Who said?" Fishlegs lurched up to the table, his eyes slightly unfocused. "I'll punch 'em for you, Ruff. I mean, if you don't want to punch them. I wouldn't steal your punch… person."

"Aaaaaand maybe you should lay off the mead for the rest of the night, Fishlegs. That is, if you're lookin' forward to the finale at all," Gobber said pointedly, and Ruffnut's face reddened again. Fishlegs blinked once, before putting the tankard down on the table as though it were poisoned. The burst of laughter almost lifted the roof off.

"Wha…?" Hensteeth sat up from under a bench suddenly, his mass of blond hair everywhere. He beamed proudly at his son for a moment, before his expression turned into a dizzy grin and he slumped back down. The laughter redoubled.

"Was… was that your _dad_, Fishlegs?" Snotlout asked as he approached, his arm slung over Tuffnut's shoulders for balance. Tuff was looking at Fishlegs as though he hung the moon.

"Uh, no," Fishlegs hedged. "That was some other man with the unlikely possession of one hundred percent of my dad's features."

"And your dad's voice," Hiccup pointed out helpfully.

"And your dad's cloak," Astrid joined in.

"And your dad's belt," piped up Tuff, only to be snarled at by Ruff.

"But that's _not_ my dad," Fishlegs finished up, his eyes averted from Hensteeth's prone form. The huge man had a snore like a supercell thunderstorm.

"What's your father doin' down there, Fishlegs?" asked Phlegma as she reached over and took Hiccup's plate away. Astrid scowled ferociously.

Fishlegs sighed.

"Eat that lamb, or that baby's goin' to have gills," Phlegma scolded, tipping Hiccup's plate in front of the ecstatic Toothless.

"I don't _feel_ like lamb, I feel like _fish_," she moaned, and her head hit the table.

"You don't look like one! Get it? Aw, come on, pay that one, please guys," Snotlout held out his hands pleadingly, and eventually crossed his arms as the group gave him identical flat looks. "Man, can't wait till Spring. Bet the girls in Phlock have way better senses of humour than here."

"Yeah, great 'senses of humour'," Tuff sniggered, his fingers air-quoting and a smirk on his lips. He erased it quickly when he saw Astrid's knowing look. "And I will respect them utterly and listen to them and be totally there for them," he added hurriedly.

"What did you _do_ to my _brother_, Fishing Basket?" asked Ruffnut in awe.

Astrid speared one of her vegetables and looked up with a calm smile. "I've always been good at training."

Hiccup tucked that wisp of blonde hair escaping her headcloth behind her ear. "I can attest to that."

"Oh, stop it, you two," Gobber threw a piece of bread at them. It flew high, and smacked Spitelout in the nose. He blinked, his normal impassivity cracking a little.

"Is it that time already?" he asked Gobber, and the smith shrugged.

"Not quite yet, let 'em get a bit drunker first. _Then_ we start the obligatory food fight."

"I think we missed that one," Hiccup turned to his father, and he nodded.

"Aye, that happened after you two took over the lodge an' locked everyone out, an' set that Hofferson harridan to guard it…"

"Stoick," Val murmured.

"An' she stood there, axe an' all, an' told me I couldn't go into my own house! Me!"

"Dad?" Hiccup ventured.

"The flamin' cheek of it, tellin' the Chief, an'… an' she's behind me, isn't she?"

"Yes," said Gerda dryly. "Behold, the harridan approaches." She kissed Ruffnut's cheek and gave Fishlegs a hearty handshake. "Congratulations, dears. Has anyone called you Mrs Ingerman, yet?"

"Astrid did," Ruffnut scowled at her friend, who poked out her tongue.

"Oh, already? Now, that's not fair, Astrid, you should let your old mother have her fun," Gerda tutted. "Call her Mrs Haddock in return dear, it'll wear off."

Ruff grinned. "I like your mum, Mrs Haddock."

"Yeah? You wait til you're on the end of one of her scolding jags, Mrs Ingerman," Astrid retorted, and both girls glowered at each other fiercely before the façade cracked and they began to snigger.

Toothless shoved his head onto Hiccup's lap at that moment, and crooned pitifully. "Oh no way, bud," Hiccup said adamantly. "I gave you guys a whole basket of fish only this afternoon. And _then_ you ate the rest of my dinner. Don't look at me as though you're wasting away, you big faker!" He rubbed affectionately at the black scaled brow, and Toothless whuffled irritably.

Around the mead-hall, people shouted and sang and drank, their goblets lifting into the air and their faces flushed with ale and merriment. High in the rafters, dragons whirred and chirruped and warbled in contentment. Spike sat among them, grooming a Terror with lazy, sleepy strokes of her beak. Below, people hugged and kissed, and new lovers and old ones whispered secret pledges to each other. The night drew in outside the mead-hall, a soft dark caress that promised sweet things for their tomorrows.

Hiccup took a great breath and let it out slowly.

"You okay?" Astrid asked him, squeezing his hand. On his lap, Toothless rumbled, his pupils round with love. Around him, his mother and father, family and friends smiled and joked. His son or daughter grew inside Astrid's body, waiting to meet him.

"Yeah," he breathed, and kissed her softly. "Yeah, I'm good."

She smiled.

* * *

(1) Bride-price, a sum to be paid by the groom's family to the bride's.

_This is as accurate a Viking Wedding as I can contrive with the limited information available. Most of it is from the inestimable **Viking Answer Lady**! _

* * *

_Well, that's really the end of the story! An epilogue to be posted tomorrow - about you-know-what._

_The day after, I will post the timeline I promised - and it'll be my last chance to respond to any anonymous reviewers. I'll send PM's to any subsequent signed-in reviewers though!_

_You guys are awesome. I hope you know. :)_


	26. Epilogue

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Last one! *wail* As I said, I will post the timeline tomorrow. This'll give me a chance to respond to the reviews for this chapter. After that, you'll have to be logged in for me to thank you!

**Ze Great Camicazi: **Here we go! **Strider714: **Whoops, sorry! Another early work situation on Saturday, I'm afraid! Here we are - was your bet right? *G* Looking forward to your monster review, as always! **someone11326: **Thank you so very much! No plans at the moment for a sequel - though I am thinking about it! Having a little rest first. **clockwork mockingbird: **Rufflegs is SO CUTE, I know! Nope, it's only her natural slenderness - though twins are on the mind of someone else... (Thank you SO much!) **shayna7767: **I know, I'm sad it's all over too! Thank you, and I'm stoked you've enjoyed it! **Leon Woon: **Glad Alvin's death came as a surprise! I was wondering off and on whether I was going to kill him off or let him live to fuel the conflict for a sequel - eventually, he was just TOO evil and I _had_ to kill him! With fish, well, the Berkians wouldn't know about mercury levels in certain fishes being bad for developing babies, but they would know that a pregnant woman has to eat many different things to get the right nutritional needs. Phlegma's trying to make sure Astrid gets more than just fish! Thank you! **Voldyne: **There _might _be a third one, but i'm having a break right now! Thanks so much for all your reviews! **childofthestorm: **it says, 'I GUESSED A DRAGON WOULD EAT ALVIN. I AM _MAGICAL.'_ D And oh yeah, girls - real men can _sew._ Thank you SO much for each and every review! **Story master: **Thanks! **Romance and musicals: **Thank you, dearest r&m! (And have MOAR FLUFF) **Cedric Bale: **I _almost_ went with that gender - and for those reasons! - but picked the other for different (and even more) reasons. Wow! What a great idea! Ill have a break for the moment, but man, you should write that up. I'd love to read that! **darkmaster7987: **Hee! Stoick and Gerda are hilarious. Poor Astrid, a bit over being an incubator, I guess. And smart-alecky!Hiccup is SUCH fun to write! Thank you!

Aaaaaand - did you guess right? *g*

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

"Shhh," Hiccup said soothingly, bouncing a little as he walked around the loft. The very small person against his shoulder burped wetly, depositing a little splodge on the cloth there for that reason. "Thatta boy. That's a good little man. Who's my good little man?"

"He's not a good little man, he's a monster," groaned Astrid, facedown in their furs. "He always wakes at four hours past nightfall. It's _three hours to dawn now_. I thought he'd settled into a routine. _Why_ didn't he sleep this afternoon? Oh great Thor almighty, I'm trying to second-guess a baby's motives. Arrgh."

The baby yawned, regaling Hiccup with milk-breath. Hiccup scrunched up his face at his son. "No giving your mother a nervous breakdown until you're at least thirteen."

Snorting, Astrid rolled over and stretched a little. Her stomach was still a little puffy since the birth three months before, but it was returning slowly to its prior slimness. The pink spidery lines low on her abdomen hadn't faded, but had begun to turn silver. Astrid was as proud of them as she was her battle scars. "Give him here, he's not had the other one yet."

Hiccup bounced his son gently some more, and transferred him over to Astrid, who deftly managed him one-handed as she arranged herself and then held him to her breast. He watched them fondly for a moment. That deftness certainly hadn't been instinctual. Astrid had been hurting and exhausted and frazzled and bleeding for weeks after the baby was born, but she'd picked up the skills rapidly simply so that her son didn't suffer. At first she'd been all thumbs and pain and shattered nerves, but now she looked completely natural, as though she'd been caring for him all her life.

Hiccup himself hadn't been much better: after Astrid's twenty-hour ordeal, he'd been a wreck. He'd spent the first few hours with Astrid as she walked slowly, stopping stock-still every so often to puff through her contractions and pulverise his hand. Then Phlegma had shooed him out, and he'd parked himself on a bench in the frigid winter wind outside Phlegma's lodge. His father had tried to get Hiccup to come away, but he couldn't bear to move. The sounds from the small house were vaguely horrifying and his imagination had run riot. Valhallarama had sat with him for a while, ducking inside to find out how the birth was progressing. She'd given him an update on Astrid, who was apparently doing well. It didn't sound like she was doing well. He'd almost never heard her scream before this. He sat through the night on that icy bench, wrapped in his bearskin and shivering and listening and trembling with fear for them both. Stoick had brought him a hot plate of lamb and a tankard of something that stung his eyes. He'd downed the lot without even tasting it, and resumed his vigil.

The sun was rising when Astrid's cries reached fever pitch before cutting off, and a high thin wail replaced it. He'd almost collapsed when Phlegma, her hands speckled with blood, came out of her lodge with a weakly wriggling thing wrapped in a blanket. Hiccup had taken it shakily, his fingers sliding over birth-wet skin. Feeling unaccountably huge and ungainly and lumpen holding this delicate little person, he'd stared incredulously into the brand new face.

"That's my nose," he said in a stunned voice.

"_He_ looks like his father," said Phlegma archly, and Hiccup's knees had almost given way once more.

A boy, he had a son. He was a father – he was now someone's _dad_.

The baby blinked glossy, opaque blue eyes at him, the colour all children were born with. Through the haze of terrified joy Hiccup wondered if they would stay that way, or if they were going to turn green. In addition to Hiccup's nose, he had his mouth and high forehead, but the tiny wispy strands of hair on his wet head were a strawberry blond, and his chin was all Astrid.

"Astrid," he blurted, and Phlegma held up her hand to stall him.

"It was a hard birth, and she'll need some time," she said sternly. "Her hips aren't all they could be, being such a skinny girl. She's going to be weak for a while, so you're going to need to look after her. She's young and strong though, so she'll get through it. Gerda's with her now."

And so Hiccup had waited on them both for those first mad weeks; holding his wife gently as she tried to stand, bathing and changing and caring for the baby. He brought him to Astrid to feed and cuddle, and got up in the night to soothe him. Thankfully Gerda, Val and Stoick taught him what to do, and they took turns looking after the little one when Hiccup collapsed into exhausted sleep beside his recuperating wife.

Astrid had managed to be up and about after a few days, but she had still been in a lot of pain. She religiously drank Phlegma's tonics every day, and carefully ate everything the midwife ordered. Her lower body was wadded tight with cloths, and she hobbled slightly at first. As Phlegma had promised however, she slowly but surely healed and grew stronger, taking over more and more of the care as she did. The slow pace had obviously frustrated her, but Hiccup absolutely insisted she take the time it required to heal. She was _not_ going to make herself ill in her need to do everything at once. He had this one.

Their little man took some time to settle into a pattern, apparently choosing his waking hours with mischievous whimsy. Usually he picked the moment right after either Hiccup or Astrid (or both) had managed to fall asleep for a quick nap. Then the little monster would start wailing. The thin piping cries of a newborn strengthened over time into the fuller wail of an infant, and Astrid would scream quietly into her pillow, and Hiccup would groan and haul himself out of bed.

Eventually though, their boy found a waking and sleeping pattern that suited him, though it certainly didn't suit everyone else.

His head soon rounded out from the slightly pointed shape he had been born with, and the little wisps of reddish blond on his head proved to be just as flyaway as Astrid's, continually blowing this way and that. No doubt when it filled in, it would fall into his eyes just as often. Those eyes had lightened and turned grass green, and he'd begun to put on weight rapidly. He had chubby little hands that grabbed blindly and tightly at Hiccup's finger, and at three months he had begun to shove them into his mouth, exploring his face and feet and everything else. He clearly recognised his parents now, and smiled hugely and gummily at them when they peered into his cradle. When placed on his tummy, he could push himself up jerkily onto his fists, and he'd only just started to roll himself over, though this new talent was still a bit alarming to him and he wouldn't try it at all unless Astrid was encouraging him. No doubt it was scary to a baby to have the world suddenly revolve. He couldn't sit without support yet, and his heavy head wobbled on his neck occasionally, though he was fond of being carried on Astrid's hip. It meant he could exercise his grabbing skills, and he often lurched and swiped at passing things rather suddenly, taking Astrid by surprise. She had to circle him with her arm so that his uncontrolled weight didn't take him off her hip altogether, the little stealth artist. Hiccup was working on a sort of sling for him to sit in.

Hiccup had begun a game that involved his son pushing his unco-ordinated wool-booted feet against his hands. The little legs were very strong, and he could shunt himself along on his back, sliding over his sheepskin rug. The baby thought that it was great fun, and burbled every time he did it. Hiccup would laugh delightedly and blow raspberries on the round little stomach, eliciting a messy giggle that always made his chest tight with joy. Astrid would hold his dimpled hands and clap them together as she sang to him, or cover her face with her hands and say, "where's he gone?" before taking them away with a great "_There_ he is!" and he would coo and reach for her with a child's uncomplicated, open and overwhelmingly happy smile.

They'd spent a lot of time deciding on a name. Astrid suggested a family name, but Hiccup cringed at the idea of saddling anyone else with his. Stoick had loudly championed the benefits of a proper troll-scaring name, but neither Astrid or Hiccup had really warmed to his suggestions. Finally, they'd named him after Astrid's father, dead for thirteen years. Freki Hiccupsson Haddock was quite the impressive name for such a very little boy however, and so everyone had taken to calling him Freckle. If the nose were any indication, he would have as many of them as his dad.

"He's done," Astrid said softly, detaching him and wiping at the slack little mouth, before bouncing him gently on her knee. The green eyes blinked heavily as Freckle regarded his mother drowsily, and he burped soundlessly, spilling more milk down his front. "Classy," Astrid scolded gently and wiped at his mouth once more. The baby smiled and blinked, his legs kicking jerkily, before another yawn overtook him.

"I got it," Hiccup grabbed another little smock from the shelves and threw it to Astrid, who quickly pulled off the soiled garment and pulled on the new one. Freckle seemed to find it wonderful fun to wave his dimpled little arm around, making it hard to get it in the sleeve.

"Hello to you too, kiddo," Astrid said affectionately, and then 'bopped' his nose, making him pause in order to giggle some more. Astrid took advantage of the moment and grabbed his soft little hand and threaded it through the smock. "Cheeky, cheeky boy," she said, kissing his sweet-smelling hair. Freckle's hand fisted in Astrid's nightdress, clenching and unclenching with infant jerkiness. Then his eyes began to blink and he emitted a small wail, before his head thudded against his mother's shoulder. Astrid held him close and murmured nonsense to him, and he wriggled with the formless unhappiness of a three-month-old who doesn't know what _tired_ means. Then he nuzzled Astrid's chin and his hand found its way into his mouth. Astrid, still humming, closed her eyes in a mixture of perfect happiness and utter exhaustion.

"Oh, so _now_ we wanna sleep," Hiccup rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed. "Not before, oh no, we wanna stay up all afternoon and get so tired that we cry our head off and drive mum crazy, then sleep too long, wake mum and dad up at Thor knows when and conk out straight after our night feed. We have spawned an evil genius."

"Put our spawn to bed then," Astrid said tiredly, kissing his little forehead again and smoothing over the impossibly soft hair.

"Come on then, spawn," Hiccup crooned, and took Freckle from Astrid's arms. She tugged them down impulsively and kissed first the baby, and then Hiccup.

"Thank you, love," she said wearily. He hoisted the little boy onto his chest and ran a loving hand through her sun-coloured hair. She looked tired and wrung out – Freckle's afternoon crying jag had happened at the worst possible time. Stoick and Val had been overseeing the ice-fishing haul, and Hiccup had put in a few rare hours at the smithy. She had tried to soothe the baby to sleep, but Freckle had been stubbornly determined to stay awake. Hiccup had arrived home to a frazzled wife and a finally-sleeping son. He'd held Astrid close and murmured reassurances to her - after all, sometimes babies just _cried_ and no mere parent could know why. She'd felt it was a confirmation of her inability as a mother. He'd firmly reminded her of the time she'd come home from Ruff's after only two hours and found him with his hair standing on end and his eyes reddened, holding the screaming Freckle. He'd handed the baby to her and promptly collapsed where he stood. She was an amazing mum just as he'd promised, fiercely loving and kind and gentle and giving, always Freckle's first choice when he was upset. She was as much a perfectionist in this as everything else.

"You go back to sleep," he whispered, and kissed her again. "The spawn and I'll take care of this."

She yawned hugely and pulled the furs up to her chin. The winter air roared outside their loft, but it was warm in the soft darkness. "Love you both," she mumbled. "'Cept when _your_ son cries for hours on end."

"She's disowned you already," Hiccup said to Freckle, who looked at him with wide, tearful green eyes. Astrid snorted and pulled the furs tighter. Her eyes fluttered closed within a matter of seconds.

"All right, monster," he said fondly, and Freckle's sharp little chin, the spitting image of Astrid's, began to wobble slightly. "Time for bed."

He stood and began to walk through the room with Freckle curled against his chest still, the click-thump of his footsteps familiar and comforting to the baby. He paced up and down, rubbing the tiny back, humming under his breath. Freckle seemed ready to let loose with another yell, but the movement and the humming was making his long-lashed eyes droop.

"Hey, see there, son?" Hiccup said softly as he neared a warm, fur-lined corner, interrupting his humming. "You probably can't focus on it yet, but there's your Uncle Toothless and Auntie Spike. You can play with Uncle Toothless in the morning, but for now they're asleep like all good boys and dragons should be. When you're a great big boy, Uncle Toothless is going to give you rides, and Auntie Spike will tidy your hair, if you have enough to tidy by then. She's settling for your clothes for now, though. Come on, buddy, close those sleepy eyes…" he resumed rubbing and humming, walking away from the curled heap of blue and black scales in the corner.

The dragons had awoken from hibernation a few weeks ago, and Toothless had been immediately wide-eyed and alert, his head sniffing the air for the scent of his human's hatchling. Upon meeting Freckle, Toothless had immediately become more of a dote than Stoick, if that were even possible. Hiccup had personally witnessed his dragon friend pushing the weighted crib in order to send the baby back to the Land of Nod. Toothless had even perfected a sort of croon that meant Freckle, and Freckle alone. The little boy always turned his head and burbled delightedly upon hearing it. Toothless had carefully allowed the baby to nap for an afternoon on his warm, scaled back, and Freckle had loved it. Upon stepping back to view the pair - his best friend immobile and ecstatically purring and his son lying peacefully in the hollow at the nape of the great black neck - Hiccup had almost burst with pride in them both. He'd had to veto the gift of a half-regurgitated fish, however. Well, at least until Freckle was old enough to understand.

Spike had at first been a little perturbed that Astrid's attention was so irrevocably split. Eventually she had nipped her cloths and brushes in her beak and dumped them at Astrid's feet in a huff of irritation, and Astrid had cleaned and polished her friend to perfection in an utter frenzy of apology. Since then, Spike had come to view Freckle as her little, pink, slightly less scaly younger brother - a bit of a bother, but okay in the end. She was forever straightening the baby's clothes or blankets with finicky and cautious movements of her beak. Freckle would swipe with his uncontrolled hands to pat her smooth scales, and the Nadder's pupils always expanded with soft affection.

He paced some more, stroking the baby's delicate skin. "Grandpa has a surprise for you tomorrow. I can tell you because you're not going to understand me anyway, and it'll stay a surprise. He's got you one of the fancy toys from Brass Monkey, all bright colours and textures. It's a sort of ring, with coloured wooden balls threaded onto it, and they're all different to the touch. He's gonna spoil you, kiddo, if your Grandma and Nanna Gerda don't do it first."

Stoick was the proudest grandfather in the world. He boasted endlessly to Gobber, Spitelout, Hensteeth and anyone else who would listen about how clever Freckle was, how strong his little legs were, how he smiled and gurgled and tugged at Stoick's beard. Freckle loved his grandpa's beard. Stoick would hold the little boy up as high as he could (which was _really high_) and swoop him around in the air, making roaring noises. Valhallarama watched this with a small smile, and later told Hiccup that his dad had done the same to him when he was a baby. Apparently Freckle's reaction was exactly the same as Hiccup's - he burbled hysterically for a while, and then threw up.

Valhallarama herself had been an amazing help while Astrid was recuperating. She'd taken care of meals and helped Hiccup with baby care and she and Gerda had even done their laundry a couple of times. This was utterly baffling to Hiccup, as he'd _always_ done the lodge's laundry, ever since he was a small boy - though perhaps the sheer volume of clothing hadn't been quite in the same league. For such a little person, Freckle managed to get through a _lot_ of stuff. Val adored her grandson. She loved to take him _everywhere_ - strapping him to her back with his little woollen hat on his head, and taking him to market or to the docks or to the combat-training classes she was holding for the older children. Freckle garnered a lot of attention at these classes as he watched them with owlish eyes. Astrid and Hiccup always liked training days; the extra stimulation meant that Freckle fell asleep on time.

Not that they kept him inside all the time either, though it was still far too cold to take him out on any except the finest of days. The mornings they ate in the mead hall were always memorable, and they'd devised a scoring system to rate the foolishness of the faces people pulled at the baby. Hiccup had brought Freckle to the smithy one day, and Gobber had raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He'd kept the baby in his basket in his own work area and given him a toy to occupy him while he made some new saddles. As he was punching holes in the leather, he'd felt eyes on the back of his head and turned. Gobber was cooing in a high voice, spouting some sort of ridiculous babble to Freckle, who was watching his father work with avid fascination. Hiccup hid his smile and carried on.

Astrid had just begun to get her old constitution back, and marched through the village to a frosty glade on any fine afternoon, Freckle wrapped in furs on her hip. There she ran and did push-ups and sit-ups and worked with her axe. Freckle always regarded her with solemn and unfocused awe as she span and whirled, the gummy little mouth slack. She had brought him along to the Ingerman lodge a few times, and apparently Ruffnut and Fishlegs fell over themselves trying to elicit his happy little smile. Astrid had become very close to Ruff and they visited each other every few days. She and 'Legs were to welcome a Tiny Ingerman at the end of summer, and Ruff was grilling Astrid for everything she knew. At four months along Ruffnut was showing far more than Astrid had, and though perhaps that was to be expected considering the relative masses of Hiccup and Fishlegs, she was unaccountably worried that it was twins.

Tuffnut was in the depths of despair. _Everyone_ was having sex before him.

At least he and Snotlout were together in singledom, spending a lot of time ice-fishing. They had begun to prepare for their departure for Phlock in a month, though Tuff would be back in summer to meet his niece or nephew - or both. 'Lout had surprised them by becoming fond of Freckle, calling him 'little cuz' and giving him 'pony rides' by bouncing him on his knee. Snotlout was also decisively winning their Mead-Hall 'stupid-baby-faces-at-breakfast' competition (the runner up was Gobber).

Gerda was up at the Haddock lodge early every morning. She was a dynamo of facts and knowledge and time-saving tips, having raised Ainid from infancy on her own. It was her suggestion to start eating at the Mead-Hall in the mornings to get Freckle adjusted to other people, and she'd brutally and efficiently managed the amount of time the other villagers were allowed to spend gurning at her grandson before shooing them along before the baby was overwhelmed. She presented a brisk, matter-of-fact front, but Hiccup had heard Gerda call Freckle her 'little chick' and rock him tenderly to sleep as she sang the same old songs that Astrid used nowadays. As with everything she did, Gerda did not do halfway measures.

He neared his drafting board and workbench, and leaned against it for a moment. "Got some letters today, son," he murmured reflectively, still rubbing the little back soothingly. "A bunch of scrolls rolled inside a leather tube, very weird. It's from a young friend of mine, a long way away. He sent it with a soldier from that place. I don't know who he got to translate it, but they need to work on their tenses… anyway, Britannicus is well and the Emperor is tired, and Agrippina and Nero are still alive, but they're keeping a low profile after that debacle at the Games. Didn't know your dad was a famous bestiarius, did you?" He rubbed Freckle's back some more as he chuckled.

"Britannicus has freed the arena dragons just like he promised, and he sewed up their wings and tailfins too. Bet that hurt. He says he snuck them out of the enclosure at night, bundled them on top of carriages and set them free up near Mantua with the help of one of his supporters and the Briton. We were up there once, stayed the night. Feather apparently made her way back down south and keeps hanging around the Tiber. She's an affectionate one, Feather. Loyal to a fault. Anyway, I'm glad Britannicus has someone else in his corner.

"He got the Briton and Plotina to write as well," he continued in that same low voice. "The Briton has become a sort of peacekeeper for his area of Rome as the magistrate of that district is corrupt, a really nasty piece of work. Caratacus sounds like he's enjoying it, though it must be hard to go from being a King to being the protector of a city district. He'll be good at it though, he always was scrupulously fair. Plotina covered up our involvement in the death of Balbus - she said that he and Gracchanus killed each other. Don't know how she explained the arrow in Gracchanus' head, but I'm sure she thought of something. She's about to remarry to a man of her choice, and they're adopting one of his nephews as their heir." Hiccup chanced at look at his son's eyes, and found that they were closed for longer than they were open, the lids lifting abruptly with a jerk before sliding shut again. "That's it, sleepy time for sleepy heads. Where was I… oh, guess who Plotina's marrying? Quintus Rufus! That was a surprise. I bet it's not going to make her noble family very pleased, but Rufus is a good man, and Plotina deserves to be happy for once in her life. His nephew is twelve and a solid little lad, from what she says. She inherited the slave-business from Balbus, but she's dismantling it and quartering the last shipment of slaves in secret for a year and a day. Did you know that if a slave runs away for a year and a day he becomes a freedman? She's a crafty one, that Plotina.

"I should write back before that legionnaire goes south again," Hiccup yawned himself, and looked down. Freckle was asleep, his chubby hand gripping the edge of Hiccup's tunic. "Thatta boy. Okay, off to bed we go…"

Freckle roused a little as Hiccup lowered him into his cradle, his arms grasping, but Hiccup handed him the little felt black dragon his mother had made and the baby quieted, his head lolling to one side. Hiccup straightened the little body, tucking him in snugly and set the crib to rocking gently.

"There we go, son," he murmured. "Goodnight."

~Fin~

* * *

_The Roman Emperor Tiberius Claudius Augustus Caesar Germanicus died in the year 54 AD, poisoned by his wife, Julia Agrippina the Younger._

_His stepson Nero assumed the throne, as the other heir-designate, Claudius' natural son Britannicus, was only fourteen years old at the time._

_Britannicus, who was described as a precocious and brave child, lived only months into Nero's reign. He was poisoned by Nero in early 55 AD._

_His sister, Octavia, was married to Nero. He hated her and quickly became bored with his 'aristocratic and virtuous wife' (Tacitus). When Nero fell in lust with the beautiful Poppaea Sabina, he banished and divorced Octavia, claiming she was barren. Soon after, he ordered her to commit suicide._

_Nero soon turned on his mother. After a long and vicious power-struggle, he resorted to matricide. He tried three times to poison her, tried to drown her using a collapsible boat, and finally succeeded in assassinating her in 59 AD._

_Agrippina's last words, according to Cassius Dio, were to tell the assassin to 'smite my womb', that part of her responsible for so 'abominable a son.'_

_'Freki' means 'Odin's Wolf'.  
_


	27. Timeline

This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable **psychicsaphie**. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

* * *

Well, here it is, the timeline for the curious/masochistic! It's using Astrid's pregnancy as a guide, thus the minuses prior to her falling pregnant, and pluses after the birth of Freckle. This should stand up fairly well to the events in the story, but if you find anything a little out of whack, please let me know! And no, I'm not going into days-of-the-week or dates detail. That way lies madness.

Our very last review replies are down the bottom of the page today!

* * *

**Timeline for When In Rome**

**A How to Train Your Dragon fanfiction**

By apparent glutton-for-punishment, Determamfidd

* * *

**-3 months: **_(Second month of winter in Berk, 49AD - 50AD)_

The events of 'Talking In Her Sleep'.

Wedding of Hiccup Haddock and Astrid Hofferson.

**-1 month: **_(Spring in Berk, 50AD)_

Dragons wake from hibernation.

* * *

**0 months:**

Astrid falls pregnant.

**0 months, 1 week:**

Hiccup begins the voyage to Phlock, a 2-week journey, for the Dragon Convocation.

**0 months, 3 weeks:**

Hiccup is kidnapped by Alvin the Treacherous, who is posing as Alberich the trader.

**1 month, 1 week:**

Stoick returns to Berk

Regin's pirates attack the kidnapping longship. Hiccup transfers to Regin's longship, the 'Redbird'.

**1 month, 2 weeks:**

Rescue mission leaves from Berk.

**2 months, 2 weeks: **_(Second week of summer in Berk, 50AD)_

Hiccup confronts Alberich who reveals himself to be Alvin the Treacherous. Hiccup is locked in the hold.

**3 months:**

Pirates from the original ship ambush the rescuers' camp on an islet. A destination is revealed: Ostia.

**4 months: **

Hiccup arrives in Rome, and is sold to Balbus the slave trader.

Rescue party stops in Hispalis. Astrid's pregnancy is discovered, and Ostia is found to be the nearest port to Rome.

**4 months, 1 week:**

Hiccup is imprisoned in the gladiator barracks of the Octavian Amphitheatre. He meets the Gladiatrix Nemesis, and the Briton.

Rescue party's longship passes through the Fretum Herculaneum (Straits of Gibraltar). Regin's pirates attack, and Toothless burns the Redbird. Regin reveals that Hiccup was sold to Balbus. Astrid kills Regin.

**4 months, 2 weeks: **

The Briton confronts Claudius, and is discovered to be King Caratacus of the Catuvellauni, a British tribe.

Hiccup duels the Gladiatrix 'Nemesis', who is revealed to be his mother, Valhallarama of Berk.

He is set free, but after a single day is recaptured by Alvin and sent to work with the Orionos, Rusalka.

**5 months: **_(Autumn in Berk, 50AD)_

The Tiny Haddock's first kicks.

The rescue party's longship is shipwrecked near Naples.

**5 months, 1 week: **

Hiccup escapes with the help of Britannicus, who takes him to the palace for an interview with the Emperor Claudius. Hiccup flees from the palace into the streets.

Rescue mission reaches Rome and meets Caratacus. Astrid kills Balbus.

Hiccup is found, wounded and starving, by the rescue mission.

**5 months, 2 weeks:**

Hiccup recuperates.

Rescue of Valhallarama and Rusalka, with the help of Caratacus, Britannicus, Rufus and Claudius.

**5 months, 3 weeks:**

Flight back to Berk (5 days).

**6 months:**

Planning meeting in the Mead Hall, and preparation for battle.

Arrival of warriors from Phlock, Sleet, Brass Monkey and Freezing-To-Death.

**6 months, 1 week:**

Battle of Troll Valley.

Death of Alvin the Treacherous.

**8 months, 2 weeks: **_(Second week of winter in Berk, 50AD - 51AD)_

Wedding of Fishlegs Ingerman and Ruffnut Thorston.

The dragons re-enter hibernation shortly after.

**9 months, 1 week:**

Birth of Freki 'Freckle' Hiccupsson Haddock.

* * *

**+2 months, 1 week: **_(First week of spring in Berk, 51AD) _

Dragons wake from hibernation.

**+3 months:**

Epilogue. Letters from Britannicus, Caratacus and Plotina reach Berk.

**+4 months:**

Tuffnut Thorston and Snotlout Jorgenson leave for Phlock.

**+8 months: **_(Last month of summer in Berk, 51AD)_

Tiny Ingerman(s?) due.

* * *

A massive thank you to all you faithful reviewers! You have made posting this monster a pleasure and a joy.

**Clockwork mockingbird: **Poor 'Legs and Ruff! Twins are no joke! Aw, thank you - and thank you too for all your awesome reviews! **Negra: **Wow, thank you so much! Aw, Stoick doting on little Freckle - I bet he's like a big friendly giant to a three month old. This certainly won't be the last story I write! I've had too much fun *g* **shayna7767: **Thank you! *blush* Freckle is actually based off a real child - although the _real_ child took longer than three months to settle into a sleeping pattern, arrgh! **darkmaster7987: **O.O Oh my... *speechless* Wow. Thank you so much! I'm so happy you've enjoyed this story and the characterisation and history. It's certainly not going to be the last one! I have a few ideas...*g* **Ze Great Camicazi: **SO CUTE, aren't they? Hee, thanks! **guardianskye: **Adorable!Vikings are Adorable. Oh, *blush* You're making me wriggle with pleased squee! Thank you! **Romance and Musicals: **Daddy!Hiccup = AWWWW. Poor Britannicus, Claudius and Octavia. Roman History is sad like that, sigh. Threequel indeed! I'm going to take a short break, as Real Life is beginning to get a bit mad, but in a month or two... *g* Thank you, dearest r&m, for all your wonderful reviews! **OmarBarria: **Thanks! Another one is brewing away in my mind, but I'm going to take a little sabbatical first as life is getting a bit crazy. **Voldyne: ***blush* Thank you - and thank you also for your regular and wonderful reviews! **Leon Woon: **A mix of research and experience for the babycare stuff, actually - although the real baby didn't settle into a sleeping pattern until he was _six months old,_ arrgh. Poor Britannicus et al, I know. It's amazing there were any Romans left for the history books to record at times. More is bubbling away in my head, but probably won't be posted soon - Real Life is getting in the way, I'm afraid! **MarkoRailo: **I know! *wail* I am going to miss posting this every morning so very much! I actually finished it perhaps a fortnight ago, and I like to post quickly (simply because I _hate_ waiting for new chapters myself!). Another one is brewing, but there'll be a short hiatus as things in the real world (as opposed to fandom *g*) are heating up considerably... but there'll be more eventually! Promise! Thank you so very much! **story master: **Aw, thank you! I certainly will, and you too! (I look forward to reading your stories!) **Foxy's Girl: **Hey, no worries - I've done the same thing *g* Wow, thank you SO much! *tries to stuff ego back in its box - WILL NOT FIT* That means so much coming from a writer whose work I admire, wow! Blushing like _Hiccup_ here! **bitterbiscuits: **Oh my! Thank you! They'd have to censor it an awful lot - there's a bit of sex and violence here after all! **childofthestorm: **I dub thee 'First Seer of _When in Rome!'_ I initially had the Tiny Haddock as a girl, and Hiccup's subsequent reaction was one of the reasons behind that - but I eventually changed it to a boy for far more reasons. There'll be more children in their future, though, and Hiccup's going to get the chance to be wrapped around a daughter's finger *g* Thank you so much, and you'll definitely be seeing more from me!

...


End file.
